


Alone

by gentlearmor



Series: AU FFXV [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Depictions of Death, Disassociation, Drowning, Drugging, Gen, Kingsglaive Spoilers, Memory Loss, Mentions of other Canons, Omen Trailer Inspired, Torture, assassin's creed (mentioned), body piles, early game spoilers, i'm bad at chapter titles so you get this nonsense, injuries, rating from teen to mature, short display of child abuse, since noctis is a damn nerd, tags will expand as the story expands, there will always be warnings in notes if need be, threat of sexual assault but none happens, whipping with a belt (which I can attest to hurting bad af)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlearmor/pseuds/gentlearmor
Summary: After the Chancellor of Niflheim requires that Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret are to be wed as part of the Ceasefire Treaty between the Empire and the Kingdom of Lucis, the prince can't help but feel it's a setup, and demands his retainers stay in Insomnia while he heads for Altissia on his own.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I apologize for grammar and spelling issues!
> 
> This is gonna be a slow burn in storytelling, so if you're expecting Omen Trailer goodness right off the bat, I do apologize! Good news is, I'll be trying to keep the chapters short, so it'll move a little faster and also, I can hopefully post frequently since this will be longerish.
> 
> I'll also try to avoid too much description by way of events leading up to this, since you likely know the story if you're reading this anyway.

His people were _not_ happy.

“Are you sure this is wise?” Ignis Scientia, advisor and steward, asked his prince, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably. He then folded his arms and rooted his feet to the ground, hesitant to move even an inch.

“Of course it isn’t,” Gladiolus Amicitia, King’s Shield and battle tutor, answered before the prince could himself.

Noctis Lucis Caelum sighed and folded his arms over his chest, staring at the two. Well. Soon, three, when Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard, joined in the onslaught. He moved in to the other side of Gladio, so that all three of them stood in Noctis’s way, and he couldn’t reach his car. “It’s the dumbest idea I’ve heard to date, frankly.”

“Noct, just say the word, and we’ll get in the car with you,” Ignis implored. “We’ll go pick up Prompto, and—”

“ _Stop_ ,” Noctis interrupted. He leaned in to the three, lowering his voice. “I don’t trust the Empire, okay? I need you guys to stay here, stay with my dad. Why is no one asking why it _has_ to be _now_ that I’m leaving for this wedding thing? Something’s up with this, and I’m not risking taking away from the manpower here. I’ll be fine out there on my own.”

“We’re dedicated to _you_ ,” Gladio insisted, leaning back against the driver’s seat door. “You need to _wake up_. We’re not supposed to be worrying about—”

“I’ll order you,” Noctis interrupted, yet again, dead serious. “Don’t make me turn this from a request to an order, Gladio.”

Gladio was about to meet that challenge, until he heard Cor say, “Let him go.”

The younger men did _not_ like that, but ended up taking a step back as Cor waved for them to move, clearing the way for Noctis to reach his father’s wedding gift to him: the Regalia.

He opened the car door and looked back to the three. None of them looked thrilled, though Cor just watched in disappointed, while Ignis was clearly worried in his very subtle way, and Gladio was just mad. “Take care of him,” Noctis requested, glancing up where his father was still standing on the stairs, watching him. “Just… take care of him, please.”

Without waiting for an answer, Noctis dropped into the car, and pulled out from the roundabout parking area. No, he didn’t want to leave at all. But he had no choice, outside of who came with him, and so he was going to make the journey to Altissia alone. It was better for the best of the best to stay in the Crown City, just in case the signing of the ceasefire treaty went sideways. He trusted no one like he trusted his personal people to do everything they could to protect his father.


	2. HAMMERHEAD 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: At the very beginning of the game, Prompto asks what ‘gil’ is, so that means that Insomnia uses a different currency. I waffled on what the currency inside Insomnia could be. Dollars? Or yen? Either would make sense in the context of the game, given the American inspiration for Lucis as a whole, but the Japanese aesthetic that runs very heavily inside Insomnia.
> 
> So, while I believe it’d be more appropriate to say Yen, I… don’t understand the Japanese currency myself. So rather than either hit up a converter or something, I’m going to say dollars and running a rate similar to the USA today. Given that there are plenty of real world, US influences culturally inside of Insomnia, too, this could be fair. This shouldn’t play a huge role after this, but honestly, if you’re like me and will write two paragraphs justifying your use of a particular currency for like two paragraphs in a fanfiction, then you understand why I’m writing this and why you’re still reading it.

The drive out of Insomnia into the wilds of Lucis was a long one on its own, and leaving at practically the crack of dawn (according to the prince; in reality, it was more like 11 o’clock in the morning) didn’t prevent it from already reaching sunset by the time Noctis reached the first safe zone: Hammerhead. It was a quaint place, with a diner, a store, and a mechanic’s garage all in a row.

While he was told to have the car looked at before going for Galdin Quay by the Hammerhead mechanics, Noctis didn’t really understand the currency of ‘gil’ that was used all over Lucis, except in Insomnia. He had dollars, and was told the people outside could convert it, but he wouldn’t know if he was being ripped off there or not.

Not that… he’d… know… anyway, but that was beside the point.

When he reached the gas pumps there, he got out and immediately went to look for the card reader so he could just pay and let the total be taken out of the travel account that was set up for him before he left. The pumps looked like movie-classic old, and didn’t appear to have a reader, but was he overlooking—

“Well, I’ll be!” a woman’s voice, coated in the drawled accent of Lucis beyond Insomnia. “If it isn’t the prince!”

“Wha—?” Noctis stood up straight from his search and looked over to find who was speaking to him.

It wasn’t hard to tell. With blonde, short and curly hair pressed under a ballcap, a young woman wearing what was very much not a normal thing to see in Insomnia sauntered up to Noctis, although she seemed more interested in the car.

“Boy, is she a beauty or what?” she cooed as if the car was some sort of baby.

“Ah, who’re you?” Noctis asked, lifting an eyebrow and then coughing as he looked away when she bent over to get a good look inside the convertible.

“What, y’didn’t ask about who’n you were supposed to meet?” she asked, looking surprised as she straightened to turn to him.

“Meet?” He was just told to go to Hammerhead and have the car get a once-over…

“I’m Cindy,” she introduced, seemingly not bothered in the slightest by the ignorance exuding from the young man. “Cid’s grease monkey granddaughter!”

“Cid,” Noctis echoed with an air of recognition. Cid Sophiar. Right. It’d been a long time since he’d heard that name or seen that man. He’d seen him maybe once in his life, and he couldn’t say he could imagine his face, because it was just so long ago. “Right.”

“Well, let’s get ‘er in an’ tune ‘er up for you so y’can get right on to yer weddin’, yeah?”

What in the hell was going on? “Okay, but isn’t it kinda late? I really can’t be without my car,” Noctis insisted.

“Oh, doncha worry none about that!” Cindy leaned around him and pointed across the way, to an RV camper that was just sitting there, with a plastic table and chairs sitting out front. “We made sure to rent that out to no one, just to make sure y’got a place to rest while we tune ‘er up! So, c’mon now, bring ‘er on over!”

She waved for him to follow, heading over for the garage. Noctis sighed a bit, hanging his head. “Right.”

Once he pulled into the garage for Cindy and pulled out of his seat again, he went about smoothing out his clothing. “How long do you think this’ll take?”

“You’ll git ‘er when you git ‘er,” a coarse, elderly, masculine voice answered. Noctis looked over to see a hunch-backed old man slowly loping in his direction, looking over the Regalia as he walked a circle around it. “Well, at least y’got ‘er here in good condition.” He stopped in front of Noctis and looked him over, snorting. “Like someone took yer daddy an’ kicked the dignity outta him,” he shot, the passing him by.

“What the _hell_?” Noctis muttered, stunned.

“We’ll git ‘er looked over’n cleared fer ridin’ long by noon tomorrow,” Cid Sophair reiterated, slowly moving away from Noctis entirely.

Noctis spaced out for a moment, just trying to catch up with everything that was going on around him. “Yeah, alright. Noon.”

Not wanting to wait for any more shots taken at his expense, Noctis left the garage and went for that RV, though he had to reroute briefly for the diner next to it, in order to pay for it, and to get something to eat. The food was better than he expected it to be outside of the Crown City, but he still had to modify the burger that was prepared for him, getting rid of the vegetables right away. The only thing he did different was eat the burger like it was meant to be eaten. Back home, he was supposed to eat it with a knife and fork, and he’d always found that stupid. If he was in a political setting, he wouldn’t have been eating a freaking hamburger, anyway, and he wasn’t about to draw attention to himself by eating it a way no one else among the customers there were eating there.

It was pretty awesome having no one to boss him around, and being able to keep to his own thoughts.

When he was done and his meal paid for, still with that card and in the hopes he didn’t run into a place that would require cash, he headed over and into the RV camper to crash for the rest of his time there.

Though…

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he flew out of his slumber, the images of violence and pain in a terribly vague dream disturbing him enough that he woke up and sat up straight. He looked around blearily after clumsily clicking on an overhead light, and found he’d thrown his phone across the camper, and his pillows were everywhere but where they were supposed to be. He had multiple ones that he brought in his personal inventory, because his body was moody and could decide it hated a given sleeping spot at a moment’s notice, unless he had three pillows he could shove around in various positions to alleviate the issues in his body that he didn’t like to speak on.

Based on the scattered belongings, he must’ve been having… some sort of nightmare that came through as a night terror, although he couldn’t be sure what. He looked out the tinted window to his right, to see if anyone was headed in his direction. Everything was clear, which meant that he either wasn’t screaming along with the attack, or was and no one heard. Good.

Collecting his phone—thankfully, he had an impact proof and waterproof case on the thing—which read that it was three in the morning, and his pillows, he took to watching some videos on his phone from a Crown City website—people outside of the massive city didn’t usually participate with their own content—until he fell asleep once more.

———

Without someone there to tell him to get up at a reasonable time in the morning, Noctis took full advantage of the promised completion of the Regalia’s tuneup being at noon. He was up at eleven and, after a quick shower, fed by the time noon rolled around, so he could head over to the garage across the parking lot.

Sure enough, the Regalia was sitting out and clean as a whistle, waiting for him. Cindy was cleaning up the headlights for him when he got there, stretching his hands high above his head to adjust his spine some. “How’s she look?” he asked.

“Purdier’n ever! We even filled ‘er up for ya.” Cindy said cheerfully. She finished with the final spot on it and then stood straight to smile at him. “Paw paw says to be careful on th’big bumps, though. Seems ya hit quite’a few on th’way here!”

“Oh, yeah. There’re some pretty severe speed bumps in the exit out of Insomnia,” Noctis owned. “I’ll… be more careful.” He pulled his card to hand it to Cindy. “Here you go.”

“Good boy!” She plucked it from his hand and started for the garage. “I’ll be right back~”

“Right.” Noctis yawned as she went, and rounded around to drop in the driver’s seat while he waited.

So, he needed to head southwest, then south, all the way down to Galdin Quay. That was going to be a ride and a half.

As he went over his travel plans, he was joined by Cid, who offered his card back in place of Cindy. “Now, boy, I want ya t’listen to me before you go wanderin’ off for Altissia,” he ordered, leaning down on the door to meet at Noctis’s level.

“Okay…?” Noctis said slowly.

“Y’need t’wake up, sonny,” Cid directed.

Noctis blinked and shook his head in confusion. “I’m… awake, I promise,” he said. Old people were great most the time, but Cid was one tough guy.

“Yeah,” the old man snorted, as if Noctis just said the most absurd thing ever.

Noctis’s mouth dropped open and he had no real response to the way Cid said that.

“Be careful out there, an’ if the ol’ girl gives ya trouble, call Cindy,” Cid continued. “Think y’can do that much?”

“Yeah, I think I can.”

“We’ll see.”

Cid flipped out a business card for Noctis to take, complete with various numbers for reaching the garage when he was out and about, and then patted the door before heading away, back for the garage.

All of that was _so weird_. Noctis wasn’t even mad. He was just perplexed. What the hell was Cid’s problem with him, anyway?

Shaking it off, Noctis started the Regalia up after putting his card in his wallet and programming the numbers into his phone. He needed to get moving if he wanted to make it to Galdin Quay before sunfall. While the headlights on the Regalia should’ve been enough to stave off daemonic attacks, he wanted to play it safe. He had good reasons for wanting to play it safe.


	3. GALDIN QUAY 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis arrives in Galdin Quay, meets a bloodsucking reporter, and finds out the Empire doesn't like boats. Oh, and some game-level, plot heavy stuff. You know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: It was kind of silly to me that at least SOME random people didn’t recognize what the boys wore (outside of Hunters, and even then), or the car they drove. I could understand not recognizing Noctis on sight, since he was clearly keen on trying to stay out of the public’s sight, but Cid calls the car a ‘custom classic’, and the boys talk about how Crownsguard fatigues are custom made. Now, Noct isn’t wearing Crownsguard fatigues, but he clearly doesn’t belong in these parts…

There definitely wasn’t anything like many of the sights Noctis passed since leaving Insomnia, but Galdin Quay took the cake. A beach resort and traveler’s harbor, the actual resort was seated far out in the water, so that its docks were in deep enough waters for large passenger boats and ferries to dock safely. There was a small convenience store near the parking lot, fine dining spots along the beach, and it looked like a fishing spot nearby that Noctis was tempted to go enjoy.

But first, he needed to see what the schedule was for the boats.

As he stepped out of the car, a couple that was passing by slowed as the man, who appeared to be somewhere in his forties, took to looking the Regalia over with a low whistle. “That is a fine car, son,” he complimented. “You fresh out of the Crown City?”

“Yes, sir,” Noctis said casually.

“Ugh, silly me, your plates say as much,” he chided about himself, gesturing at the front license plate. “What model is it?”

“Regalia,” Noctis replied. It’d take just the right app on a cell phone to match a picture of the car on the internet to figure that out, so there was no benefit in lying.

“Whoa. So, does that…?”

“Honey, look at how he’s dressed,” his partner urged as she tugged on his arm. “He’s trying to be like the rest of us, clearly.” Noctis nodded in approval of that statement.

“Sorry, we’re just not used to seeing… you and yours around these parts!”

“Yeah, I know,” Noctis said. “Just… you know…”

“The wedding, right?” the woman asked, her eyes lighting up as though she just remembered that. When Noctis nodded, she put her hand not on her partner’s arm to her chest. “You two will make such a beautiful couple.”

“That’s apparently the idea,” the prince said with a shrug. He pointed towards the stairs that would take him for the resort’s main area. “I… really need to be going.”

“Oh, of course!” The two did clumsy, subtle bows to Noctis, before hurrying along for their own car.

Noctis closed his eyes and took a breath. He could do without being recognized. That would be nice. He realized the car was the problem, but it was kind of too late to go back and say, ‘Sorry, your wedding gift is too obvious, I’m taking my Audi.’

Up the stairs and across the winding walkway, Noctis went, headed for the open-walled building set amid crystal clear waters and palm trees extending out from the ocean. It was nice. He admittedly wished the guys were with him.

Just as he passed the greeter for the business there, he was trying to work around the crowd of people walking back and forth, when a large man in a hat and wearing green slammed into his shoulder as he passed by, doing so with so much force that it staggered Noctis and made him ache a little.

He turned to tell the man to watch where the hell he was going, only to find there was no one in such colors or clothing in sight. He frowned, rubbing at his shoulder. What…?

Maybe he was wrong about the colors, or… “Whatever,” he muttered to himself, turning and pressing on to get to the docks on the backside of the water-stood building.

As he reached them, he heard a woman lamenting to the side. “This is such a shame! I was hoping we could get there to see the wedding!”

“I know. There’s not going to be anything like it for a long time,” a man agreed by her.

That sounded bad.

He passed by them, and a man seated nearby, going to the travel roster board to see what it had to say. Over all itineraries, ‘NO TRANSIT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’ was marked up top. Noctis rested his hands on the railing in front of the board and sighed. What now?

“Ain’t great when you’re gonna be late for your own wedding, now is it?”

Noctis straightened at the voice and turned, looking to the man seated nearby in surprise. “Who’s asking?” he asked in reply to that question.

“Name’s Dino—Dino Ghiranze,” the man with hair the same color as Ignis said, grinning. He looked over as the two lamenting people disappeared up the stairs. “And _you_ are Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, eh? Yeah, the boats are all halted. Some sorta blockade set up by the Empire. Kinda funny, doncha think? The Chancellor grandstands for this to happen, and then won’t letcha through?”

“Yeah, _real_ funny.”

“My question is, why’s you runnin’ around all on your owns?” His accent was hard to pinpoint for Noctis. “Thought you got yourself a Shield already and everything?”

“Not anyone’s business,” Noctis replied firmly. Normally, it would’ve been Gladio’s job to push a guy like that out of the way for him, but he knew what he was signing on for when he made him and Ignis stay in Insomnia.

“Isn’t it though?” Dino asked, disarming Noctis a bit. “Tell ya what. Let’s make a deal, huh? I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who could get a boat here for ya by the morning.”

“Convenient, but I’m listening,” Noctis permitted as he folded his arms.

“I want an exclusive wit’ you an’ your blushing bride when you get back here, that’s all!” Dino declared.

“Oh my God, you’re with the press,” groaned Noctis, his head dropping back in annoyance. He should’ve known. The guy was dripping with ‘master interrogator’ vibes.

“Hey, hey now! I ain’t like those Crown City leeches,” Dino defended. “I mean what I say, and I say what I mean! You guarantee me the exclusive, I guarantee you that I make a call to my guy who has a guy who has a guy, capiche?”

Noctis would have rejected that stupid offer any other time, but did he really have a choice then? It wasn’t like he was going to Altissia for a vacation.

“Fine,” he said after a pause. “You can have the exclusive. Now how long?”

“Gimme ‘till morning! I’ll get on it right away, and as soon as you lift your little popstar head off the pillow, you’ll have a boat waitin’ for yous.”

“Fine.”

Noctis left it at that, heading back to the resort proper to arrange himself a room. It was nicer than an RV, at least. He didn’t mind sleeping in the RV when that was what he had, but when presented with a choice, a nice hotel was definitely better.

He supposed he should’ve been thankful, though. If Gladio had come, they would’ve been camping… a lot…

After having a meal with the cheerful, and pricey, chef set up at the center of the resort’s main hall, Noctis just decided to turn in. It was sunset anyway, and with the room’s massive windows, he could enjoy the colors as they changed through the sky, reflecting off the ocean’s surface. It was really nice and relaxing, honestly, and he contemplated heading out afterward to maybe do some fishing. He wasn’t particularly good at it yet, but he’d found he genuinely enjoyed the peace and solitude of the activity. However, he was suddenly really, very tired as he watched that sunset and listened to the water through the open doors of his room’s balcony, and he fell asleep before the sunset even completed.

##

That night, he dreamt of fire. Of fire and of water, as they clashed together in a war that couldn’t be won.

The water extinguished the flames, and the flames grew ever hotter, evaporating the water in a black sky that held no stars, no moon. Nothing but embers and vapor.

##

When Noctis awoke in the morning, the urgency to find out if the boat was there yet had him racing through a shower, and running for the docks once he was changed.

Sure enough, Dino was seated there, waiting for him as he read a newspaper with a frown on his face. Noctis didn’t pay much mind to it, when he didn’t see a boat awaiting at the dock.

“Dino! What’s the word?” he asked as he jogged up to him and skid to a stop, arching his back a bit to straighten it out from the kinks he’d worked into it from crashing down the stairs.

“It ain’t comin’, kid,” Dino replied, looking up at Noctis. “I tried.”

“Goddamn it, _why_?”

Dino looked confused, like Noctis should’ve already known. He leaned forward, offering the newspaper he was holding to him. “I thought everyone checks their phone before anything else in the morning in Insomnia, huh?”

“I was distracted by a cheap tabloid reporter telling me I’d have a boat waiting for me,” Noctis grumbled, snagging the paper away to look at it. Whatever irritation he had for Dino melted away to pure horror once he laid eyes on it.

‘INSOMNIA FALLS’ read the headline, with an article detailing how the ceasefire signing planned between the Empire of Niflheim and the Kingdom of Lucis fell through, with the Empire striking down on Insomnia and killing the king and most—if not all—his court.

“No,” Noctis breathed. “Lies.”

“’fraid not, kiddo,” Dino said sympathetically.

“No, I was just there a couple of days ago—I was—someone would’ve called—”

“Kid, you gotta wake up,” Dino insisted.

Noctis threw the newspaper to the bench beside Dino and said nothing as he took off running back up the stairs. No, no, _no_. He needed to see it for himself. He needed to… He needed to try to get back to the city if it was true.

No, it couldn’t be true. Ignis or Gladio or Prompto would’ve called, right?

Did he hand them a death sentence, too?!

When he got to the Regalia and started to get in, his phone started to ring. At first, he assumed it was one of his friends, but instead, Cor Leonis’s name came up on the screen. So, he answered it and started up the car. To hell with distracted driving, he couldn’t get more distracted than he already was.

“Cor! Cor, what in the hell is going on?!” he demanded. “The news—”

“It’s what they’re saying,” Cor confirmed.

“I’m coming back—”

“No, there’s no way you’re getting past the roadblocks, and it’s too dangerous anyway.”

“What do you expect me to do?!”

“Meet me in Hammerhead, and we’ll talk about this.”

“Where are Gladio and Ignis?!”

“ _Noctis_ ,” Cor said firmly, clearly trying to get the prince to focus.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Meet me in Hammerhead,” the Marshal repeated.

Noctis growled in frustration and disconnected the call. The phone was dropped in his pocket and, although he was acting like he was going to do the opposite, Noctis started for Hammerhead once more.


	4. HAMMERHEAD 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, my Marshal’s in another castle.”
> 
> A new party member has joined! Also, Crown City girls are too good for overalls, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no good at naming anything, let alone chapters, so locations and tallies will have to do.

By the time he arrived at Hammerhead, Noctis had to put up the roof on the Regalia, thanks to the torrent of rain falling from the sky. Given that, in the distance, heat and smoke poured up high into the atmosphere from the direction of Insomnia, it felt almost as though his dream the previous night bore some sort of prophecy, or something was giving him a live indication that things were going very wrong back home.

He didn’t even pay attention to where he was parking on the premises as he got out and looked to the sky, large Imperial airships sailing around overhead, to and from the Crown City. It didn’t much matter though, because the entirety of Hammerhead was filled with cars and people alike, talking and panicking as they continued to look overhead and in the direction of Insomnia.

Noctis was glad it was raining, because tears of anger and worry were biting at his eyes, and he didn’t want anyone to know.

“Hey, prince,” Cindy said as she carefully approached him from the garage, her normal fire gone from her face. He supposed it stood to reason that even the people out in the rest of Lucis would be worried. Even though they would have been signed off in the event of a successful signing to the Empire, they hadn’t been yet. He wasn’t sure what they were thinking, not entirely, but maybe they held out hope that it was temporary, before King Regis could amass enough military strength to push back again.

In fact, of all the people who had gathered there, no one looked free from worry, and several were looking his way, but there was nothing about them that shouted anger or feelings of betrayal.

A glance around made him realize that many of the people there were Crown City citizens, if only by the cars filling the parking lot. Of course, they’d know who it was who just arrived.

“Have you seen Cor?” he asked, looking at Cindy. “Marshal of the Crownsguard, said he’d meet me here.”

“He came by,” Cindy confirmed. “He moved on ahead up north to an outpost—”

“So, my Marshal’s in another castle,” Noctis clarified bitterly, folding his arms.

“But he asked me t’have ya stay here for at least a day,” she continued, watching Noctis’s face. “He—”

“Not gonna happen. That son of a bitch told me he’d meet with me here, and then he runs off and expects me to just sit here?”

“Prince.” Noctis sighed and leveled his eyes at Cindy; he was mad, but not with her, so he stilled is tongue. “Look around, will ya? I reckon these people’ll do well t’have their prince n’future king with ‘em,” she said quietly. “Us out in these parts, we might’n be used t’not havin’ y’all around, but people in th’Crown City needja.”

Noctis looked around at the sea of faces, pursing his lips. Cindy was right. He didn’t like sitting around and doing nothing when he had no idea if his friends were alive, or if his father was actually dead… but…

“Right,” he said quietly. “How many here are from Insomnia?”

“Most,” Cindy said. “Y’can kinda tell if y’look at ‘em good.” She pointed to a couple of women in overalls by the convenience store. “Crown City girls wear overalls like that often?”

Noctis smirked weakly. “No, no they don’t.”

“Now, I know this hasta be hard on ya, prince,” Cindy continued, getting him to look back at her. “But people needja. We’ll keep th’camper open for ya.”

“These people need a place to sleep. I can use my car,” he insisted.

“Well, most’n ‘em are gonna likely leave fer Lestallum, but we’re ready t’open up our buildin’s for ‘em to sleep in if we gotta. We still gotta lookit yer safety, prince,” she insisted in kind.

“I’m not afraid of my people,” Noctis said, almost offended.

“No, but we gotta keep that cute face’a yers hidden when y’can’t hide yerself. What if Empire soldiers come walkin’ through here when you’ve gone on down to slumber?”

There was no argument to be had there from Noctis. Maybe if he didn’t sleep like a rock, he could’ve insisted more, but he was pretty sure a bomb could go off by his head and the sound alone wouldn’t wake him. The RV would give him a buffer, at least.

“Okay,” he sighed, finally defeated in his verbal battle with the mechanic.

“Why doncha give me the ol’ girl’s keys, an’ I’ll git ‘er into the garage,” the blonde offered, holding out her hand.

Noctis nodded and pulled the keys, dropping them into Cindy’s hand. “Thanks.”

He turned as she patted his shoulder, going to for the most upset of the people standing on the premises, feeling what they did. He wanted to scream, cry, punch the ground, punch the Empire. Someone needed to pay for what was done to them. His father was played for a fool in thinking they would honor the agreement.

Noctis just… wished his plan to leave his friends behind would have worked. Now, he had to sit and wait in a puddle of anxiety and worry to learn if any of the three possibly survived.

His people seemed appreciative of his attention, at the very least. It was true that the people within the Old Wall were accustomed to an easy life. People still worked for what they had, but it wasn’t rough like it was for the rest of Lucis. Many of them had never even seen a daemon in their life, outside of television and the internet.

The stories they told were horrifying.

Massive magitek daemons storming the city, the explosions at the base of the Citadel that heralded the beginning of the attack, and most importantly: whispers and rumors that both Lunafreya and Noctis had been in the city, and perished with King Regis.

The only good news was that it appeared that the attacks focused mostly on the Citadel, so it allowed for a vast majority of the population to flee. Some fled on foot, but many were able to get into some sort of transport to rush out of the city as fast as possible. With the Wall gone, the daemons would be inbound, and had already begun to tear the rest of the city apart as the attacks from the Empire continued.

It all made Noctis so worried and so mad that he exhausted himself by the time people started to move in for the makeshift resting areas that were made up for them in the different buildings, and out of their cars. He’d once again asked Cindy about giving up the RV to at least one of the families, but Cid was sure to step in and verbally slap him to the camper.

Once he had his bed made, he sat at the end of it, face in his hands. He stayed that way for so long, that he wasn’t even sure when he pulled himself to his pillows and went to sleep, but his body was immediately grateful for the rest. All he could remember was looking out the window that faced out to the darkness, and seeing small, inhuman figures dancing around in the night, just beyond the protection of Hammerhead’s lights.

##

The silence of his dreams that night worked as a steep contrast to the chaotic fight between elements the night before.

He found himself standing in the throne room of the Citadel, staring up at his father and his court. Around him, his friends stood, garbed in Crownsguard fatigues. That included his friend from high school, Prompto, which was baffling as he wasn’t close to interested in such a life.

The consciousness in his dream gave way to silent chaos, as the floor underneath his feet gave out, and he fell into inky darkness. He fell for an eternity, falling away from the hole in the throne room that bore the only light in that abyss.

When his body finally landed, colliding into a hard surface, he was stunned at both the agony and the void of noise that accompanied it. He rolled to his hands and knees, and then raised to his feet, hoping that the darkness also gave way for something tangible.

That hope came true, but he instantly regretted having it.

A vacant throne, the court laid dead. Turning, he found his friends’ bodies laying on the stairs leading up to the throne, swords pinning them to the floor. Such force that had to be used, to be able to thrust sword after sword into their bodies and break through the marble below. Blood trailed down the stairs from his friends, trickling until they met the hem of a white dress.

Radiant and clean, crisp and sterile in a room filled with blood and decay, Lady Lunafreya stood, a trident in her hand. She was looking at him in pity, and Noctis threw out his hands to her as he ran for her, in hopes of touching her, hugging her.

##

“Rise an’ shine, prince!” Cindy called as she stood in the main area of the RV camper. “Y’got a visitor!”

“Right,” Noctis groaned as he slowly sat up in bed and looked over to her, through the narrow door that led to that ‘bedroom’.

“Man, y’sure do sleep like no one’s business, doncha?” she asked, her hands on her hips and amusement in her voice. “Not even paw paw could raise ya from outside!”

“Yeah.” He rolled out of bed and stood, gesturing. “After you.”

She nodded with a smile, and stepped out into the clear day. Noctis was right behind her, still yawning as he tried to regain all his senses.

That became a non-issue when he saw not Cor, but Monika Elshett, standing near the convenience store’s entry, waiting for him, apparently. Noctis picked up the pace, rounding around Cindy and moving in on Monica with wide eyes.

“Monica!” he exclaimed as his greeting. “Where’s Cor? He was supposed to be here.”

“Prince Noctis,” Monica greeted, bowing low to him. “It’s a relief to see you’re alright.”

“ _Monica_.”

She straightened from her bow and nodded. “In light of what’s happened, he’s gone to speak with the Hunters, and apologizes that he isn’t here to speak to you in person.”

“Why? What are the Hunters?” Noctis just wanted someone, _anyone_ to give him answers…

“The Hunters are the only people out here that we can trust with military-scale operations,” Monica explained. Not to the satisfaction of Noctis, but it was something, he supposed. “The Marshal wants to employ their help in finding the Royal Tombs. It’s time for you to get your Armiger.”

Noctis took a deep breath. That… That… was… The Armiger, the Royal Tombs, those were things that were only important when an heir to the Lucian throne was nearing his or her time to arise as ruler. “Right…” Noctis replied, numb.

“Now, more than ever, it’s important that you wake up,” Monica emphasized, watching his face carefully. “We need you to prepare to ascend to the throne. Give me your phone and I’ll put in his coordinates for you.”

Noctis stared into space as he did as Monica requested and just waited for her. “Monica, do you know what happened to Gladio or Ignis…?”

“No,” Monica said regretfully. “In the last hours before the signing was to begin, your father made the decision to switch duties between the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive. The Glaives stood in duty to the Citadel, while we were to stand in guard of the people, so our numbers were spread out.

“Why would he do that?” Noctis asked, horrified. It wasn’t that the Kingsglaive weren’t good, but they weren’t used to protecting the Citadel, and the Crownsguard weren’t used to protecting the city. Flipping them was beyond reckless.

“I could be wrong, but…” Monica held out his phone to him, which Noctis accepted as he listened intently. “…I suspect King Regis knew what would happen, and wanted the Crownsguard to be out where we could maximize civilian survivors. I’ve heard whispers that there was betrayal among the Glaives during the battle. Perhaps he knew that, too.”

“Goddamn it,” Noctis mumbled. He looked to Monica as he readied his phone. “What about you? What’re you doing?”

“I’m headed in the same direction you are,” Monica replied.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Noctis asked. Why was it that every person he was meeting turned out to be acting in absolutely confusing and illogical ways? “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

As Noctis passed her by, Monica turned and watched him with a frown. “Your Highness, I’ll most likely impede your progress.”

Noctis groaned out and sharply gestured for her to follow him. “I’m tired of people doing what they want and not listening to a thing I say,” he snapped. It made no sense. Ever since this all started, it was like…

…like no one was acting the way they should have.

It was subtle, to him. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was… there was something wrong.

Perhaps it was just his nerves. Perhaps traveling alone, receiving word of the attack alone, perhaps it was frying him out worse than he thought originally. He hoped that, if he traveled with Monica for a little while, he’d be able to tell. She wasn’t his friends, but she was always kind to him as he grew up, and he’d sparred with her plenty of times in the past, so he most certainly wasn’t _uncomfortable_ around her. He really hoped he was onto something. He couldn’t take how he just couldn’t understand anything any of them were doing or saying.


	5. NORTH LEIDE PRAIRIE OUTPOST 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get a little interesting after Noctis and Monica meet with Cor in the Prairie Outpost, by which rests a Royal Tomb and the beginning of Noctis's Armiger.
> 
> ...or is it?

The drive from Hammerhead to the Hunter’s Outpost in northern Leide wasn’t too bad. It was a nice day, so Noctis was able to lower the Regalia’s roof, and Monica was predictably a good passenger. She stayed quiet for the most part, watching the scenery pass around them and occasionally commenting on the music that came up on Noctis’s radio.

As the buildings of the outpost came into view, Monica looked across to Noctis. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“Why?”

“I hope you know that we did everything we could, to both fulfill your father’s wish and also try to fight to get back to him,” she said quietly. “I’m sure Cor will be apologizing as well.”

Noctis shook his head, resting his cheek on his knuckles, steering with on hand. “You’re not at fault for listening to the orders my dad gave you,” he absolved. “I don’t know why he did something so insane, but the people who listened and did their best aren’t to blame.”

Monica ended up bowing her head in her seat, fist over her heart. “Thank you, Prince Noctis,” she said.

When they reached the actual outpost, it was as humble as Hammerhead. Noctis started to pull out of the car, and looked at Monica. “Are most the places out here like this?”

“If they’re even still standing, as I understand it,” she replied, following suit. “Most people have eventually abandoned their homes in favor of moving to Insomnia over the years since the Wall started decreasing in size. A few places of substantial size remain, such as Lestallum.”

Noctis shook his head at that. It was really starting to drive home how much the Old Wall separated people of a single nation. They should’ve been working together, not hiding away.

“We won’t be stopping here,” Monica advised as she walked. “There’s a trail past the outpost that we’ll head up to meet with the Marshal.”

“Right.”

As they walked, Noctis looked around at the people there. Many were refugees, but there were others who were wearing body armor and carrying weapons as they patrolled around, and attempted to help the refugees. It was… nice to see that the people from both sides of the wall could help one another. There was never an issue that he heard of when people chose to migrate into Insomnia, but he couldn’t say he even ever wondered what would happen in the vice versa.

He looked back ahead to make sure he was still on Monica’s heels, when instead of her, he was greeted by a man in a hood. A… Kingsglaive? The Glaive ran for him at full speed, and he went wide eyed, throwing his hands up to block the man from slamming into him. In a split second of being able to see his face, Noctis recognized him as Nyx Ulric. Nyx had been his personal guard on occasion, and was overall a pretty cool guy. But here, he had his weapons out and was charging and—

…disappeared the second he should have been colliding into Noctis.

The prince stopped moving, staring at his hands he’d held up in shock. What in the hell was that?!

“Your Highness,” he heard. Looking up, eyes still wider than they’d ever been, he once again saw Monica standing several yards away, looking concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Did you see that?” he asked, finally moving, doing a circle in his place.

“…see what?” she asked slowly, unsure.

Noctis was stunned. What in the hell?

“…never mind,” he said slowly, clearing his throat.

Monica looked at him doubtfully, but turned and pressed on for some old ruins that were shockingly close to the outpost, and the first thing Noctis said was, “Why the hell haven’t they set up in here?”

Yeah, the buildings that once stood there were crumbled into parts, but the walls were still standing thanks to the earth they were cut into and apart of, and with a little work, the buildings could be fixed. It’d be perfect.

Monica disagreed, however. “They’d be sitting ducks in here, especially if an airship flew overhead. One well-placed charge at the tomb here, and there’d be no place to run.”

“Good point.”

When they reached the mouth of a cave, hidden by the way of massive boulders all around it, they found Cor standing there, waiting. He was in a bad way, his left arm in a makeshift sling, and butterfly-tape holding together an aggressive laceration running over his left temple. “ _Oh my God_ ,” Noctis blurted out as they got closer to him. That head injury had bled all over his fatigues on the left side of his body, and he clearly hadn’t had the chance to get his clothes washed yet.

“Prince Noctis,” the Marshal greeted, doing his best to bow without hurting his arm.

“Stop, _stop_ with the bowing, seriously,” Noctis stammered out. “Have you had any sort of potion treatment?”

“There’s none to spare right now,” Cor replied firmly. “I’m just fi—”

“Like hell there isn’t. I have plenty.” With a simple manner of will, an elixir appeared in Noctis’s hand, which he held up over Cor’s left shoulder, and snapped open to allow the magic of the bottle to pour onto him, fluffing up and onto his head. “It’ll probably work slower since the wounds aren’t fresh, but…”

“It’ll help with the pain. Thank you,” Cor completed. He turned and gestured into the cave. “We’ll be headed this way. It’s a bit of a walk, and I’m sure there will be daemons inside, but there is certainly a royal tomb in there. I remember when we came here with your father.”

“Yeah. A lot of good it did him,” Noctis scoffed.

“The Empire struck when your father had sapped so much of his life away powering the Wall and everything else,” Cor replied firmly. “It wasn’t that the weapons you will be obtaining are useless: It’s that his body had become useless.”

Noctis clucked his tongue at that, not even close to happy with what he knew and what he was hearing. However, for the time being, he was keeping his opinions. “Whatever, can we just get this underway?”

“Yes. After you,” Cor permitted.

Noctis nodded and proceeded into the cave. His two party members were in tow, Monica and then Cor. “Lights on, kids,” he said as he pulled his wearable flashlight and turned it on. They both followed suit, before their path got so dark, it was mostly pitch black.

After traversing what was honestly really nothing but a cave, the area started to reveal that it was more than that. Old cans and trash laid scattered about, and cables ran from long-dead lights.

“Hey, it looks like there’s a generator up ahead!”

That voice wasn’t Cor, nor was it Monica, and it disarmed Noctis enough that he whirled around, looking behind them frantically. “Prompto?” he called out. In the beam of his light, the Crownsguard looked at him, befuddled. “Didn’t either of you just hear Prompto?”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” Cor asked, concerned.

“Generator…” Noctis babbled, not even regarding Cor’s question. He turned to look at one of the cables, and started to follow it down a side tunnel where, sure enough a generator in rather pristine condition laid. It was an old one, something from easily a century ago, but with a flip of a switch, it still turned on. “Look at that,” he said quietly. That couldn’t have been his imagination, could it?

Cor and Monica were concerned, but they left it alone for the time being. The Lucii had some weird ways about them, and none knew that better than Cor Leonis.

There were minor daemons here and there, easily dispatched with Noctis’s efforts, and Monica playing support if he was struck unexpectedly. Cor stepped in if one tried to get the drop on her, but otherwise knew better than to try to go all-out in the condition he was in unless there was no choice.

Winding paths led to locked doors of an actual facility of some sort. “What _was_ this place?” Noctis asked.

“Once upon a time, it was a place to hide,” Cor answered as they went along. “Before the Old Wall was established. The war with Niflheim started with Solheim, and they weren’t as lucky back then, or as strong as the kings of today have become. Entire families lived down here. I’m told that when the main power failed, they were forced up from the lowest floors because of daemons taking advantage of it, and then the Old Wall was constructed which, back then, covered the entirety of the country, so they abandoned this place.”

“Wow. Imagine having to live in this place,” Noctis snorted.

“I’m sure it was a lot more friendly back then,” Monica remarked. “Put a hundred kindred faces in here.”

“Good point,” Noctis conceded.

While the trip was inhibited by obnoxious goblins trying to lure them into traps with pieces of jewelry, or swarming them from above, it was never anything Noctis couldn’t handle with the backup he had, and eventually, they came to the door of the Royal Tomb. The prince tried to open the door, and a dissatisfied grunt escaping him.

“Here,” Cor said, stepping forward with a key that was large and old, and unlocked the doors with surprising ease. He handed to key to Noctis after doing so. “It unlocks all of them.”

Noctis nodded as he took the key, and it vanished from his hand as he stashed it away into his inventory.

Within the Royal Tomb was the sarcophagus of one of his many ancestors. Which, he wasn’t sure. He was due to be the 114th king. There were a lot of men and women who sat on that throne, and a long history that was impossible to learn inside and out. Regardless, atop the image of the king resting there was a weapon. A sword, slightly longer, slightly broader… it’d definitely help, even if it would make him impeccably tired after using it, if he was to believe his father.

Noctis held his hand over the effigy and focused in, silently asking the deceased king to give his weapon to yet another descendant.

Above the effigy, the crystal-like weapon appeared. Noctis stepped back and waited for what he’d been told would happen, which was the sword swaying around and then shooting directly into his chest. It was a cold, shocking and sharp pain that lasted for only seconds before fading and then bursting out around him in his Armiger.

Which…

…it wasn’t…

…right.

Instead of his weapon and the newly obtained Royal Arm oscillating around him, he had over ten weapons on him, and he didn’t recognize any of them.

Flashes of light burst in front of his eyes, and for a moment, he believed he was having a stroke or a seizure, because his whole body went numb, and yet he could feel himself falling.

Falling through light, through dark, descending, being pulled.

Glimpses of a nebulous three-headed beast filled his mind, beyond the fire and the water that pushed and clashed, in the darkness beyond, and a figure of white, standing in the water, ahead of all the chaos, calm and peaceful, and…

…afraid.


	6. LESTALLUM 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis awakes. It's a week later and he has no goddamn clue what's going on anymore.

The world spiraled back into view, and Noctis had no idea how much time had passed or where he was. The visions that still danced in his mind felt more like distant memories than they did dreams. He didn’t understand any of it. Everything was so cryptic, and trying to parse what it meant was quickly deemed futile as Noctis decided that it was just a series of lucid dreams.

That didn’t explain his last waking memories, however, of ten weapons in his Armiger when he should have had his own, plus the Royal Arm he just obtained.

The hotel room he found himself in was dated like the rest of Lucis that wasn’t within Insomnia, with dated colors, dated materials, but it was… quaint. Nice. The bed was obscenely comfortable, despite it being so hot in the air that he could barely stand it. The dual ceiling fans did little more than push the hot air around the room.

It didn’t make any sense. Nothing made any sense.

The door to the room opened as he started to try to find his shoes, and he looked over to see Monica and Cor pushing through. When they saw the prince sitting on the edge of his bed, they looked surprised. “Well, you finally got up,” Monica said.

Most notable about them was the fact that Cor was no longer injured, and no longer in a sling. Not so much as a scar remained on his head. Noctis was so thrown that he was starting to get distressed. He wasn’t dreaming before. That wasn’t a dream. It was no more a dream before than it was presently. There was _no way_ that it had been a dream before…

Those actual dreams were starting to make him completely paranoid about what reality actually was.

“Someone needs to start explaining themselves,” he demanded. “ _Right now_.”

“Well, you’ve been out for about two days,” Cor explained as he walked around and sat on the bed across from Noctis. He seemed unaffected by Noctis’s actual tone. “Monica and I went to the market here and, when we came back, you were just out and couldn’t be raised. We’ve been doing what we can to keep you hydrated, and—”

“Where is ‘here’?” Noctis asked, staring at Cor.

“…Lestallum, where we’ve been for the last week,” Cor replied, clearly confused. He pushed to his feet again and walked over. Noctis’s rambling objections, Cor ignored, in favor of putting his hand on Noctis’s forehead. “No fever,” he said, looking at Monica.

“Of course I don’t have a fever,” Noctis blurted. “I feel _just fine_ —”

“Noctis, calm down,” Cor insisted, gazing back down on him.

“Well, since he’s up finally, we need to be thinking about our next move,” Monica said.

“No, you need to tell me where Gladio and Ignis are,” Noctis demanded, slapping Cor’s hand completely away from him. “I’m tired of this bullshit, and I want answers!”

“Maybe if you’d just _wake up_ and pay attention—”

“I _am_ awake!” Noctis shouted, standing upright in a flash. “Where’s Gladio?! Where’s Ignis?!”

Cor and Monica glanced at one another, before returning their gaze to the prince. “Last I saw of them, they were running for the Citadel,” Cor said. “I ordered them to stop, but they said they had orders from you. That they went against their better judgment in cooperating with staying with the people instead of the king.”

“So what are you saying?” Noctis demanded. “Are they dead?!”

“We don’t _know_ , your Highness,” Monica emphasized. “We’ve been trying to call them for you, but there’s been no answer.”

“The good news is that the phones are still ringing. They would’ve died by now if there wasn’t someone charging them,” Cor advised.

“Any word about Prompto?” Noctis asked, suddenly deflating and just… sitting back down on the bed. Did they really have their phones, but were refusing to answer…? That didn’t sound like them. Especially not Gladio. His sense of duty to the Crownsguard would have him answering. Ignis wouldn’t answer if he found justifiable reason, but that would be… very difficult for him to find.

“We asked about him and Iris Amicitia, with the refugees that have made their way here,” Monica said. “Rumor has it that she’s with a group headed this way, and with members of her family’s staff, but no word on Prompto Argentum.” She moved over to sit by Noctis when he folded over and held his head quietly. “We know he’s your best friend,” she said quietly. “We’ve been trying.”

“…thanks. What now?” He needed to jump subjects, before he became a mess. He didn’t want to do that. Not around Cor, not around Monica.

“Altissia,” Cor stated without hesitation.

Noctis lifted his head and stared at the Marshal in surprise. “What? Still?”

“I know, but the First Secretary went live about two hours ago. She stated that Lady Lunafreya is there, and was taken into the Altissian government’s custody. The Oracle might know what’s going on here. Didn’t she speak to you when you and your father visited ages ago about being tied to her?”

“Not so much tied, but that I’m supposedly some sort of ‘Chosen King’, and the Oracle’s duty is to support me,” Noctis summarized. It was a long time ago, and they hadn’t spoken about it since then, for obvious reasons.

“Then we should keep you on schedule. Head for Altissia.”

“There’s a big damn problem with that, though: There are no boats coming in or heading out from Galdin Quay. They blocked it off by the time I got there, before the attack on Insomnia,” Noctis informed. “When I was there, a reporter promised to help in exchange for an exclusive with me and Luna. He wasn’t able to come through for me, though, because of the attacks.”

…why hadn’t they already gone through all of that if he’d been traveling with them for a week…?

“Just because that area is blocked, it doesn’t mean it all is,” Cor said decisively. Noctis lifted his head and looked at him, confused. “In Cape Caem, there’s a house on a cliff. Underneath is a dock with a vessel your father rode during his travels to obtain the Royal Arms. It’s been a long time since its been used, but I’m sure Cid wouldn’t mind heading out that way to take a look.”

“Right. Why don’t we break?” Noctis suggested. “Monica, you should try finding at least whoever of the nobles are still alive. Cor, you should make sure that Cid gets there safely.”

“What’ll you be doing?” Cor asked, folding his arms.

“I’m gonna go strike a deal with my reporter friend,” Noctis replied, going back on the hunt for his shoes. “He’s got contacts, right? They all do. We can get eyes out for Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, and anyone else to help Monica. I also want to see if he’d be willing to throw the Empire off my scent.”

“You Highness—no, your _Majesty_ ,” Cor objected and corrected as he stood with Noctis. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Because all of you did such a _good job_ protecting my _father_ , right?” Noctis snapped, the words coming out with far more of a bite than he really intended. It actually startled Noctis himself with how much vitriol his tone just spit out, and he turned back to them, flinching. “I didn’t mean—”

“We’re gone,” Cor interrupted, firm and final. His expression was unreadable, but Noctis just knew he had made a big mistake, especially when it was so contrary to his reassurances from before. “Monica to look for surviving nobles, and I’ll be on escort duty, then.”

Noctis just stood there, watching as the two went to collect their things that were in the room, which included a bag for each likely containing spare clothing. There was nothing he could say. He unintentionally knocked Cor ‘back into place’, when that wasn’t normally his thing at all. He wanted disagreements. He encouraged treating him like a normal person, but…

When they left, Noctis clacked his teeth together in frustration. What the hell was he thinking, saying that? They had no fault in his father’s orders for them to stay away from the Citadel and be ready to help the people. So distracted in what he said to them and the result of it, when he went into the restroom for a shower, he didn’t even look at himself in the mirror.

If only he had, then he would have seen that his steel blue eyes were no more, replaced with a burning amber color that glinted with golden rings, like golden hoops around fire.

By the time he finally did look at the mirror, his eyes were back to normal, and he’d be on his way to checking out and leaving for Galdin Quay once more.


	7. DUSCAE 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problems Noctis has been having with visions and glimpses into things untrue, or things impossible, have begun to kick up a notch, and are seeming more plausible as they go.

Noctis was amazed at how just leaving the raised city of Lestallum by even a quarter of a mile brought a drop in temperature. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to be noticeable and welcome. The further he got into the region of Duscae, the more the temperature dropped until it was a pleasant, level 75F.

Once he could feel he was in the mood for music, he slapped on his iPod to just get some industrial music going. When it came to music, he always did prefer being in the car alone, or at most with Prompto. Everyone else in his life tended to have a problem with the ‘aggressive’ (not his word) music he preferred to listen to, acting like it was just noise akin to nails going down a chalkboard. The only reason Gladio didn’t balk too much was because he could get Noctis into the mood for training faster when he could listen to his own stuff.

Which was kind of funny, because at first glance, Gladio probably looked like someone who would dig industrial, or even metal. Quite the contrary, though, the most modern he got was if it had a beat he could fool around with a woman to. Well… whatever he wanted. Noctis was normally grossed out at those conversations, but he was complacent right then, not knowing if he was even alive.

After looking at his dashboard while he was driving, he noticed that he was running low on gas. “Great,” he muttered to himself.

Signs were indicating a gas station was up ahead by a couple of miles, but a little more north than he’d like. He didn’t have much a choice, however, and routed to it right away. He still had several hours to go before he hit Galdin Quay, so he needed to consider places he might have to pull off for the night. Not that he’d be unsafe, because of the headlights on the Regalia, but just… he felt so tired, too. Honestly, his body hurt, too. Was he sick?

When he reached the gas station, he realized that the pumps there were identical to the ones at Hammerhead. He got out and stared at the pump for a moment. How was he supposed to pay?

“It’s cash only at the pump,” a new voice stated.

Noctis looked over to his right, finding a woman standing there, wrapped in a black and red coat, with a high collar. She looked more prepared for the middle of winter, honestly. Her white hair was pulled back in a pony tail, which he noticed when she walked over and shoved some strange-looking bills that he assumed were gil into a slot on the side. “That should fill it,” she commented as she breezed past.

“…wait, I can pay you back when I go in,” he said quickly, before she got too far away from him.

She turned and looked at him with an amused slant to her eyes. “You sure you can?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Insomnia’s gone, and its banking system with it.” When Noctis’s eyes went huge at the realization, she snorted. “Yeah. So, you better go get the change, because your card might not work.”

“…who _are_ you?” he asked, stunned and doing a poor job of hiding it.

“You _think_ you want that answer,” she commented. “But you don’t.”

“Wha—” Noctis hurried and pushed the gas pump’s faucet into the Regalia’s tank and clicked it on, allowing it to run as he jogged after the woman. “What, are you a Niff?” he asked as he skipped up to her side while she walked for the camper on the property.

“What makes you think that?” the woman asked, actually sounding amused.

“You sure as hell don’t act like you’re from around here, and no one in Insomnia dresses like that,” he snorted. After Cindy’s little coaching regarding the clothing of women from Insomnia and Lucis in general, he was trying to be more observant.

“Who’s to say that I’m not from Altissia?”

“That’s still the Empire, isn’t it?”

“Oh ho.” The woman chuckled as she reached the door of the camper. She turned to Noctis and leaned forward a bit. She was almost as tall as he, so it allowed her to dip just a little lower to watch his face. “Aranea Highwind,” she replied, before turning and opening the camper door. “Be careful out there, kid. Wolves like the lost.”

She closed the door on Noctis, and he took several steps back, frowning. He was damn tempted to just let himself in and demand more information. What in the hell was a member of the other side doing there, just camping out like she had good sense? She didn’t seem particularly threatening, though. Defector, maybe?

Clucking his tongue, Noctis turned and headed for the Regalia. It was filled up by the time he reached it, automatically turning off when it got high enough. As he topped it off, he could hear Ignis in his head being incensed over the danger of that, but it was just way easier to deal with an even cash amount than anything.

Once he was done there, he headed for the store itself, in order to see if he had change as ‘Aranea Highwind’ (what the hell kind of name was that, anyway? he wondered) said he would. He’d look into buying a snack or an energy drink or something and try to pay for it with his card. Surely their banking system wouldn’t fall that easily. They were on a gold standard, and that gold was tucked inside safes and vaults across the city, even under it, to protect it. So long as it still existed, surely the people of Insomnia would be okay, right?

The clerk smiled as he entered, holding up some bills that indicated he had change, and Noctis offered a small wave as he approached.

About three feet from the counter, a sharp, blistering heat erupted in Noctis’s head, around his temples, and the pain made him lose his vision briefly. He grasped at his skull, feeling like he might’ve been screaming, but unable to hear himself.

He tried to stay standing, but another sharp, burning pain struck him, that time across his back, like a whip. It struck him straight across the part of his back that gave him so much trouble growing up, and it was enough for his legs to go out on him.

His knees hit the floor, and the pain that radiated from the fall seemed to counterbalance the pain in his head, and he slowly, reluctantly, pulled his hands away so he could try to get his bearings.

That didn’t happen, when he found himself confronted with an entirely new scene around him. A soft blue, white and black bedroom that he hadn’t seen in many, many years: The bedroom of Lunafreya.

He slowly pulled to his feet, stunned, and looked around him to try to figure out how he ended up there.

Across from her bed was a mannequin draped in a white bridal gown. His worry didn’t go away, but the confusion on his face softened as Noctis shakily headed over to it, to touch it delicately where Luna’s heart would have been had she been wearing it. He’d wondered…

The world around him snapped and shattered, like someone slamming their fist into a mirror, and gave way to the room again, but without the dress, and without rays of daylight pouring in from outside.

The doors to her room burst open, and Noctis spun to see Luna, no older than the day he first met her so long ago, being dragged into the room by some sort of… commander? of the Empire. His armor was regal, his face too old to be fighting on the front lines. He had to be a commander of some sort.

He threw the little girl forward, her body crashing against the marble floor of her room. Although the little girl didn’t cry, she was thoroughly terrified as she tried to crawl away from him.

“ _No_!” Noctis screamed, charging for the man as his sword appeared in a hand. He didn’t know what was happening, but it wasn’t good, and he couldn’t just stand there and let it happen. Not to anyone, but especially not to Lunafreya. The logic of the situation was lost on him.

The man spun to him, eyes wide, but just as Noctis swung his sword in for the man, he went right through him and tripped, hitting the floor.

His collision caused the world to shatter once more, and Noctis found himself laying on his back in the Regalia’s backseat, staring up at the sky.

There was more, though.

Perched in the back of the car was Aranea Highwind, who was eating an apple casually. “Wow,” she said. “You certainly know how to make a scene.”

“Wh-What happened?” Noctis sat up straight and looked around. “Where am I?”

“About a mile away from the gas station you just tore the hell out of for no reason until I knocked your ass out.”

“What…? I didn’t—if I was, why would _you_ stop me?”

“I’m not in the ‘hurting innocent civilians’ business,” she replied unapologetically as she watched Noctis critically. Finally, she got off the car and started to walk away slowly. “Continue on your journey now, fair prince,” she called over her shoulder. “And be careful: You _do_ know what’s happening to you, after all, don’t you?”

“No?! How could I?!”

“You’re starting to wake up. You should be careful about where you choose to do so.”

Noctis moved up to his knees to stare at Aranea as she went. What did that mean? He was starting to wake up?

Thinking about it, the words ‘wake up’ had been used a lot towards him recently… but Aranea’s way was the first time it sounded like a warning, instead of an order.

…but _why_?


	8. DUSCAE 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is starting to notice a pattern, but it's leaving him even more confused than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kind of filling in the world of Lucis a bit with some additional locations. I think we can all agree we wished for that, even though the game tells us why there isn’t more. I’m not making anything a metropolitan center or anything, so it’ll fit to the canon environment! TBH finding a map that lists everything online is hard for me because I guess I’m stupid, and I don’t always have the game available to refer to when writing, so this is easier. Hope you don’t mind!

Noctis sat in the back seat of his car for quite a while after Aranea left, thinking, not thinking, staring into space. Nothing made sense, nothing felt right, and he didn’t know what to do.

Eventually, a gathering of refugees appeared, driving past, packed in cars, no doubt heading for Lestallum. Noctis sat up straight, trying to observe every face that passed him by. He recognized no faces, although they recognized him and waved frantically to their prince as they passed. He waved awkwardly to them in exchange, and had to fight a cringe when he heard a child call, “We’re happy you’re okay, Prince Noctis!” from the car. He was a little boy, maybe about eight years old, with light brown hair and cheerful features.

It was just in passing, his car moving on, but not before Noctis could offer him a small smile in exchange. “I hope you wake up soon!” the boy called happily in the last moments during which his voice would be heard.

Noctis turned to his steering wheel and slammed his arm against the side of it, snarling. He didn’t understand what that! And who was that kid…?

Starting the car, he U-turned around to follow the caravan of vehicles.

He’d been thinking about it for a while. Who all had told him some version of ‘wake up’?

Gladio.

Cid.

Dino.

Monica.

Cor.

Aranea.

They all had previous encounters with him that amounted to some sort of helpful experience. Why would that pattern break for some little boy in a car passing by?

It wouldn’t. It didn’t make sense to. He needed to figure out who the boy was to him.

The caravan traveled for quite some time, passing through Duscae and past the gas station Noctis met Aranea at. That was an interesting thing, in a horrifying way, to find that the windows of the gas station’s store were blown out of their frames, and the entirety of the store in disarray. Was that what Aranea was talking about when she said she stopped him because she wasn’t into hurting civilians?

Normally, he would’ve stopped and apologized, offering to help clean up, but he had to focus on catching up with the kid. He needed to start following the trail that was being left for him. Or, rather, the trail that he believed was being laid out for him.

They were almost to the region of Cleigne when the line of twenty cars pulled into a small town. Central Viane was the name, judging by the aged and rusted arch that greeted newcomers as they drove in. It hosted about four main streets, with buildings about as tall as Lestallum, with colorful lights stringing across the streets from roof to roof.

The cars went for a hotel there, which a less charming version of the hotel in Lestallum, and they poured from their cars, entranced with the prince’s decision to follow them.

Noctis did his best between looking for that boy and trying to reassure and greet the people coming to him. He was so distracted that when he heard, “Oh, God! Noctis!” in a familiar voice, he couldn’t quite figure it out, until the owner was crashing into him from the side, wrapping slender arms around his chest.

To his surprise, and relief, it was 15-year-old Iris Amicitia. “Iris,” he said, putting one arm around her to pat her back. “You made it out.”

“Just barely! We probably wouldn’t have made it out, because Gladdy and dad weren’t there, but—” She turned and pointed through the crowd. “We ran into him, and he helped!”

Noctis followed her gesture, confused for a few seconds, right until he saw the face of his best friend, Prompto Argentum. In his core, he wanted to buckle from relief; he wanted to honestly cry at seeing him. The world was making a little more sense with, really, both of them there. Iris was a good friend, too. He didn’t, of course, but he lost his breath momentarily.

“Hey, buddy!” Prompto greeted, looking as relieved as Noctis was. He hurried over to Noctis, slapping him on the shoulder when he was close enough and smiling.

“I didn’t see either of you in any of the cars,” Noctis pointed out as he realized that very thing.

“We were taking a nap,” Iris replied. “Right up until Talcott started saying you waved to him.”

“Talcott?”

Iris moved without actually letting Noctis go, and waved for someone to come up to them. Sure enough, the boy that made Noctis follow the group to Central Viane was the one to step up, looking starstruck. “This is Talcott Hester. His family’s been our retainers for a long time,” Iris said.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Prince Noctis!” Talcott said with a maturity woven into his childish excitement that was beyond his years. He bowed to Noctis, beaming.

“Heh, nice to meet you too, Talcott.”

“What have you been up to since everything went wrong?” Iris asked.

“Trying to figure out what happened to you guys, Gladio and Iggy,” Noctis partly lied. He hadn’t really asked about Iris, but he hadn’t had his head on straight, either. She didn’t need to know that. “You hear anything from them?”

“No, I’ve tried calling Gladdy,” Iris said with a frown. “I…” She trailed off before she really started, and Noctis got it. Her brother was supposed to be his Shield, and her father was his father’s Shield. There was no way that her father survived.

“Hey, why don’t we go check in at the hotel?” Prompto suggested with a small frown. “We’ll talk more when we get to a room?”

“Good idea,” Noctis said. He looked to Talcott. “You coming, kiddo?”

“As soon as I get my grandpa!” Talcott replied, his eyes wide as he watched Noctis.

“Alright, well be quick, yeah? Everyone needs to relax after everything that’s happened,” he directed as he started in the direction of the hotel, still keeping an arm around Iris as he went.

“Yes, your Highness!” the boy answered eagerly, darting off right away.

\- - - - -

The suite they were given by the hotel staff was only when they realized who Noctis and Iris were. It was something that surprised Iris even more than Noctis, which she expressed when they got to the room.

“You wouldn’t think it’d matter that much,” she commented as she went to the first of the bedrooms to claim it via her shoes in front of it.

“I don’t think it would’ve if not for the attack,” Noctis replied with a shrug.

“That’s right, you’ve been out here since before it happened, right?” Prompto clarified.

“Not for a particularly long time. Just a couple of days.” A couple of extremely weird days. “People didn’t really care for the most part. Even the mechanic who checked out the Regalia was kind of an asshole. I think they’re worried now. Honestly, I’m surprised that the welcome was warm at all.”

“Why?” Iris asked.

Noctis gestured around him in general. “Have you not seen how they live? Everything’s so… basic. I swear, even the gas pumps don’t have card readers. You gotta push cash into ‘em, and even the currency is different out here.”

“True. I noticed that when we filled up. Thank God that they take Insomnia cards, right?” Prompto commented.

“Do yours still work?” Noctis asked. “I haven’t had a chance to try mine since… the attack.”

“Yeah!” Prompto confirmed.

“At least we got that much,” the prince sighed.

If anyone had more to say, they didn’t have a chance as the main door to the suite opened, and Talcott bounded in with an old man right behind him. “Prince Noctis!” Talcott cheered as he hopped up in front of him.

“Mind your manners, Talcott,” the old man said gently as he loped along, cane in hand.

“I don’t mind it,” Noctis insisted.

“That’s Jared Hester,” Iris explained. “Our household’s chamberlain.”

“Ah,” Noctis acknowledged, knowing that wasn’t the most intelligent response. Just before he could properly greet Jared, though, Talcott was speaking up.

“What do you plan to do, Prince Noctis?” the little boy asked, eyes wide and fixated on him.

“Well, right now, the plan is to get to Altissia still. Cor and Monica are in charge of refugees and finding Iggy and Gladio, and I need to get to Altissia to try to make it to the Oracle.”

That was the plan, right?

Wasn’t that what they agreed on?

Noctis was suddenly feeling as though a cloud was over his mind. Was he starting to descend again?

When flashes of light burst into his vision, Noctis grabbed his head and buckled at the knees. “No, no, no,” he breathed.

“Noct?!” Prompto called, horrified and running for him.

He grabbed Noctis’s arm and, while Noctis could see he was just trying to support him, his hands brought pain. Sharp pain and the snapping of bone, the grinding of joints, the tearing of ligaments.

What Noctis was feeling did not make sense to the careful way Prompto was holding him.

The prince screamed out, yanking from Prompto and trying to escape to the side. Although his arm was fine, it felt as though it had nearly been ripped off his body. Nearly. Like someone didn’t want to go ‘too far’ and allow him to lose a limb entirely.

Clambering behind a couch in the suite’s man room, Noctis pulled together and wrapped his ‘good’ left arm around his legs. Frantically, the others tried to figure out what was wrong.

“What do we do?!” Iris asked.

“Something is clearly wrong with him,” Jared said quickly. “Lady Iris, he mentioned the Marshal and Monica. Do you have either of their numbers?”

“I have Cor’s—let me see if I can scream for him.”

…wait.

“It’s too late!” Prompto argued. “There’s—There’s no way we’re gonna be able to fix it!”

…

“No, we can’t just leave him! This isn’t him!” Iris argued.

“I know, but I don’t know what else we can do! Do you?!”

…that wasn’t right.

“Look, Iris,” Prompto begged, his voice carrying a tremor that didn’t make sense. “I don’t want to leave him, b-but neither of us… neither of us are strong enough… we’re not getting through… if he’s hearing us, he’ll understand… He’d want us to—to—to go…”

Noctis opened his mouth, wanting to ask them what the _fuck_ they were talking about, but just as the first letter of the first word came from his throat, the feeling like someone just punched him in the throat crossed over him.

Sputtering.

Gasping.

No air.

The feel of someone’s hands around his throat.

Red, lights, flashing, pain.

He couldn’t fight. He only had one hand, and his attacker was invisible.

No air, the world darkening.

Darkening…

Darkness.

...peace.

...bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you've gotten this far! Like I said at the start: This story is meant to be a relatively slow burn, executed over small chapters based on location, so really... thank you if you've held in so far!
> 
> Especially because I know that I accidentally add and change words and just overall screw up on that front. You're wonderful!


	9. DUS...Cle...Lei...cae... #####

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis's stilted reality is spiraling out of control more rapidly than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are talking a little longer than I anticipated. So sorry!
> 
> Also, we're close to a rating bump up to Mature. We're not there yet, but almost. You'll likely pick up as to why when you get to the right place, lovely reader!

Noctis wasn’t sure how he got there.

The day was warm, the air clear and fresher than anything one would smell even in the forests and farmlands of Insomnia, the pollution of the bigger portion of the city making everything smell after exhaust and movement.

And there he was. Out of the painful silence and peaceful chaos of darkness, brought on by a panic attack he couldn’t understand, the stressors people who had never done him harm, and into what seemed to be a normal, beautiful day out in the wilds of Lucis.

Well, normal, outside of him and what was happening to him.

Racing down the street in the middle of his kingdom, in a place he barely knew, he was trying to outrun the Imperial airships that had found him.

The last thing he remembered was hiding behind a couch in a small town, convinced his arm was being torn from his body by his best friend. He remembered the begging from Prompto and Iris both. The debate whether to stay or go, that sounded as though it was plucked from another place and time, and the ultimate choice to run from him.

He remembered them saying that he wasn’t hearing them. How could that be? He heard every word.

Was it even real?

Was he losing his mind?

Noctis’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed, out in a field of green and brown, a white spot that didn’t belong. When he looked over, he was in awe to see none other than Pryna, the white-haired dog that belonged to Lunafreya.

While he didn’t see Pryna often anymore, Luna used to send her all the time when he was a kid and preteen to cheer him up when times were difficult. Eventually, Pryna stopped showing up, but there was still Umbra, her dark-haired, male counterpart. The messenger dogs were important to him, and he was so stunned to see her just sitting there, staring back at him, that he lost track of the gunfire hurdling for him from the airships.

He sure as hell remembered that was a problem when he heard the left, rear tire of the Regalia burst, the sound deafening. Next thing he knew, the Regalia was spinning out of control, and he was airborne. Thrown from the car and tossed out to the street, slamming into it hard, and only having enough sense to wrap his arms around his head protectively.

Flashes of soldiers storming in on him danced in his mind, grabbing him and dragging him. Him fighting them with everything he had, but it seemed they were endless in numbers. Between his injuries suffered in the accident, and fighting for what felt like hours, he grew exhausted and was easily overrun.

In reality, he was a mess, yes, but he wasn’t being approached by any of those ships. One had landed, but the others moved on, and the one on the ground landed about twenty yards away, and sat there, dormant.

Noctis slowly pushed to his hands and knees, and held one hand up to materialize a potion, which he slapped onto the top of his head. Some of the gashes he received from the crash wouldn’t mend all the way without something stronger, but with the potion being applied right away, it would do more good than if he waited.

Up to his feet, he looked at the Regalia, which sat on its side at the edge of the road. That was devastating…

Pryna was still there, in the green and the brown of the plains around that street, and she started to bark eagerly, beckoning him to her. Noctis looked at the airship critically, still no life stirring from within, and it felt as though it was simply observing what he was going to do.

It wasn’t worth the fight. His back felt as though someone had taken a whip to him. His arms, while no longer bleeding, still had massive road burn and gashes on them that would easily reopen in a fight. So, he took off running, his limp a little more pronounced as he went. Pryna kept barking until he was close enough for her to turn and start running. Noctis kept on her trail well enough, drawing out one of his daggers and using it to warp forward in intervals. His bad leg was causing him problems in his speed, so he was grateful to have his warp to catch up with her when he needed.

Pryna seemed to go on forever, and what was early day was sunset by the time she slowed down in front of some sort of gate. It was a big, metal thing, and Noctis was regretting not paying attention to where they were going when he looked around and recognized nothing around them.

As he pulled his phone and tried to get an idea, Pryna barked. He turned to see what she was doing, and that time, she wasn’t barking at him. She was barking at the gate, and whatever that was about, it caused the gate to open up wide for them.

Pryna turned to look at him expectantly. “What, you want me to go in there, girl?”

Pryna barked and wagged her tail, before turning and trotting inside. Noctis tilted his head and started in after her. “Guess I better trust the spirit pooch on this one,” he murmured.

As they walked, the air began to grow hot. Impossibly hot, and when they came to a ledge that he’d have to ascend to keep going, he started to realize that they were in some sort of volcano. Narrow channels cracked through the bottom of that ledge, red, hot plasma rolling through slowly.

Another bark, and when Noctis followed it, Pryna was on top of that ledge, watching him with her tail slowly wagging. “Right. Follow the leader,” Noctis murmured.

Drawing out his daggers, he slammed one into the rock in front of him, relieved when it entered easily. Climbing it without assistance was _not_ the way he wanted to go right then. Using that to jump up high, he slammed the other into the wall and then stepped on the lower, able to hoist up to the top of the ledge. Pryna let out an approving whine, and darted into a far hotter area, where the molten lava touched the cool night air, and hardened in patches while heat and smoke billowed from its cracks.

Expertly, she leapt from patch to patch, Noctis running and warping to keep up, and he was so caught up in following her once again that, when she stopped and turned to him, he was confused as to why.

And then she turned to his left.

Noctis looked in that direction, and was left shell-shocked when he found himself staring at a massive body. Something bigger than some of the buildings in Insomnia, the being lumbered high above him, holding on its back the entirety of a massive rock.

The Archeon, Titan, who caught a meteor destined to destroy humanity, and had since been wedged between it and the crater it left after its collision with his body. Noctis wasn’t a particularly religious person, but he knew that much about Titan. It was a story his father used to tell him at bedtime, during the few times Regis had the opportunity to do so.

The giant began to move, billows of dust clouding up and coating the air in brown particles that made it hard to see, and sent Noctis into a coughing fit the minute the clouds rolled over him. The sheer immensity of the Astral, the god, was tumultuous to everything around him, even just through simple sways of his body as he balanced that meteor carefully.

A thunderous noise emanated from the Titan’s mouth, slamming into his brain like a ton of bricks. The sound was foreign, inhuman, but definitely speech, and Noctis couldn’t understand a single syllable of what was being said. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure if he could comprehend it, given that every word was drilling into his skill and burying itself in the core of his mind, thundering and painful.

When the words stopped, the foreign speech over, Noctis slowly lifted his head, and just in time to see one massive hand, at least three times the size of the Regalia, descending upon him. There was no way he could run, there was little chance of him being able to fight. Changing out his blades for a shield, Noctis dropped to his knees and held it over his head as he braced for impact.

The deafening, explosive sound of the stone-like god striking against his shield was a good, audible representation of the pain that shot through his arms, his back, his hips, his legs. It felt like every single point in his body became jammed in, and he was convinced he lost a couple inches to his height in the impact.

None was so frightening as how the darkness that flooded his eyes convinced him he’d died in that instant. It was as sudden as clicking off the television in the middle of a show. He truly, honestly believed he had died.

*

“ _I am going to break you and everything about you. I’m going to destroy you and rebuild you in my image._ ”

*

Flashes came to his mind, of drawing not a shield, but a sword. Of deflecting the descending attack from Titan and throwing him away with a strength he didn’t realize he possessed. Of taking to arms and fighting the giant by sword, by mace, by magic.

Of coming through victorious and being awarded a token of alliance by the Astral, as a silent promise to stand with him in his hardest times.

…why?

*

“ _The harder you fight, the longer this will take. Oh, what am I saying? You_ are _the heir of the throne of Lucis. Stubbornness is in your nature, and I have eternity to spend on you._ ”

*

Heavy darkness that pushed and pulled on him, dragging him deeper into an abyss of nothing, shattered when a spike of pain ripped over his back.

Heaving forward, Noctis slapped his hands over his face and took several deep breaths. The darkness was gone, and he was seated, not descending. Still he just sat like that, hands over his face and trying to regain his bearings, when his body swayed forward in the way one did when something moving forward stopped, such as a car.

He looked up finally, and discovered he was sitting in some sort of passenger boat that had just docked. Judging by the uniforms of several men out on the pier, it seemed he’d just landed in Altissia. He was stunned. How? How did he get there?

Noctis looked around frantically, to see if anyone on the boat was someone he recognized. To his amazement, there were more than just one or two.

“Look who finally woke up,” Aranea remarked from her seat across the aisle from him.

“Man, you sure were out a long time, Noct!” Prompto commented from the seat behind her, and next to Iris.

They were soon joined by Cor, who walked past them, waving for them all to follow him. “Let’s get a move on. We need to find Lady Lunafreya. Commodore, you do the talking.”

“You got it,” Aranea replied, pushing to her feet and following.

Iris and Prompto were up and ready to follow, although they stopped by Noctis’s seat. “You okay, buddy?” Prompto asked, watching him in concern. Iris, meanwhile, leaned down and drew attention to the fact that Pryna was there as well, at Noctis’s feet, when she rubbed her head.

Noctis almost, _almost_ said no, that he believed he was losing his mind. Absolutely nothing made sense. What happened to fixing his old man’s boat, and him going alone? How did he end up there with the party he had with him? Had the situation with Titan been a dream?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally said. That was the biggest lie ever, but if he couldn’t explain anything coherently, it would just frustrate the others, and being a liability wouldn’t do. Especially when they were that close to Luna. He nodded to them both. “Go ahead and head out with Pryna. I’ll catch up in a sec.”

Maybe… maybe the world would start making sense again, once he got to Luna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again if you've made it this far and remain interested!


	10. ALTISSIA 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has fully accepted that he's clearly losing his mind. But why are people acting like they know it, when he hasn't said a thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we have the rating going up one mark. While there are descriptions of injuries, the only real description of -violence- is drowning.

Noctis had reflected on the idea of going in a group before he left Insomnia. He really had. His father had journeyed the world when he was about the same age, with his own retainers in tow: Cid Sophair, Cor Leonis and Weskham Armaugh. Noctis believed Clarus Amicitia was there, too, although he couldn’t really remember if he heard any stories that included him, oddly enough. Much like Noctis’s own trip, it was wrought with political troubles and violence. It wasn’t quite like how Noctis’s trip was turning out, but it wasn’t exactly easy.

Of course, Gladiolus and Ignis would have come with him, and he likely would have wanted Prompto, too. The idea of having his friends and retainers with him would have been nice, and he was reminded of that with Prompto there with him in Altissia. Had he made a mistake leaving Gladio and Ignis in Insomnia? Had he signed their death warrants? The unknown was panging at his conscience with an unconfirmed guilt that he wouldn’t be able to shake until he learned of their [unlikely] survival.

The company he had then was definitely a variety he hadn’t even considered. Cor Leonis was competent. Hell, even calling him competent felt like a grand understatement. A master in battle and command, his position as Marshal of the Crownsguard was well-earned.

Aranea Highwind was also clearly a competent warrior. Her lance was an absolute beast of a weapon, and her armor was no joke, either. Commodore to the Empire’s Navy, she’d apparently grown weary of their recent uptick in unethical behavior. “I’ll do nearly anything so long as I’m getting paid,” she told Noctis as they travele from walkway to gondola, from gondola to walkway, and so on. “’Nearly’ anything. Turning arms on the citizens we’re suppose to protect isn’t one of them.” She left it at that, but the distaste rolled off of her every word.

Prompto Argentum was still masterful with his camera, but had begun practicing with guns, Cor and Aranea coaching him along the way. Noctis supposed that his stellar aim on the video games they used to play together indicated he’d be pretty decent with the real thing. He spoke about how he’d run into Iris along the way, and was just glad that Noctis had introduced them several months before, because he would’ve ran right past her otherwise. On one hand, Noctis was glad, too. On the other…

He felt uncomfortable having Iris there in Altissia with them. What decision led up to that, anyway? It wasn’t because she was a girl, obviously, or even because she was Gladiolus’s sister. It was that she was _fifteen_. He wanted to know why the hell Cor let her come along for a trip to Altissia.

That conversation happened after Noctis had a chance to get his bearings. He still couldn’t recall how he got there with them, and reflected upon how that wasn’t the first time he ended someplace with no idea as to how he got to that point. He was pretty sure he was losing his mind, but he was also pretty sure it wasn’t right to put that fact on anyone’s shoulders.

Finally, he approached Cor as they awaited the arrival of the owner of a restaurant in the lower areas of the multi-level Altissia. It was a quaint restaurant of bold woods and golds, atop what was more a platform than a floor, and surrounded by canal waters. Mercifully, it was also away from the bustle of crowds found on the higher levels. All they could really hear, beyond the soft conversations of patrons to the business, was the soft sound of the canal’s water splashing lightly against the restaurant’s platform.

Cor was seated at one of the tables, tucked in the corner of the restaurant. Nothing but a foot of distance separated the table from the ledge, but that hardly bothered the Marshal or the prince.

Noctis sat on the barstool-styled seat across from Cor the second he reached him, and leaned over, on his elbows, so he could speak as quietly as he possibly could. “Remind me again why Iris is with us?” he requested, staring at Cor so the man would know he was serious. The only time he pulled his eyes from him was when the Marshal glanced over to watch as Prompto, Iris and Aranea discussed some sort of bulletin board across the way, and Noctis glanced over as well.

“Do you want the nice answer, or the blunt one?” Cor asked after a brief silence between them.

Noctis stared at him like he was stupid for even trying to ask, and Cor sighed. The boy preferred blunt and straight to it, compared to dancing around the issue to make it sound more palatable.

“Right,” Cor relented, realizing the absurdity in that question. “As far as we know, she’s the last of the Amicitia line, your highness,” Cor went on, quietly. “That makes her a high priority target, second only to you. That’s the first thing. The second is that she has no where to go.”

Noctis was understandably a bit baffled by that. “What about Cape Caem?” he asked.

Cor lifted an eyebrow and, by his expression, Noctis realized he should’ve known that answer. He sat there, unapologetic, however, forcing Cor to speak. “…well, you hit your head hard, didn’t you?” the Marshal asked with a slight frown. Noctis didn’t respond verbally, but shook his head in question. “Cape Caem was found by the Niffs,” Cor elaborated, watching Noctis closely. “It was burned to the ground. We just lucked out that the boats were allowed to start moving again out of Galdin Quay.”

“Burned…?” the prince questioned, stunned.

Cor sighed, looking more distressed by the second. “ _Damn_ , kid.” Noctis grunted when suddenly Cor was on his feet and grabbing at his head, feeling around the back of his skull. “Why didn’t you say you couldn’t remember anything? Is anything else seeming off?”

“I dunno,” Noctis replied lamely. “Why?”

“ _Because_ , you—” Cor stopped speaking and looked off to the side, at the center bar. “There he is,” he commented, referring to the dark-skinned, older gentleman that had finally arrived and taken his place at the bar. “Just… stay here. I’ll call you over when it’s time. I don’t want you walking around. We’ll talk more about your memory later.”

Noctis snorted and folded his hands in his lap. “Fine,” he said, unenthusiastic and watching Cor walk for who he guessed was Weskham Armaugh. That was who Cor said they were going to visit, and Noctis knew he’d met him in the past, but he’d been too young. He was two years old, if he remembered from third parties recounting the last time the man was in Insomnia.

The conversation between the old friends started, and after about five minutes of not being called over, Noctis was growing bored. He didn’t particularly care for having to be _immediately_ prepared for things, only to have to wait. Prompto was busy with the girls still, so he didn’t want to bother him. The blond boy clearly was crushing over Aranea, so it was going to be futile anyway. No one got between Prompto and his crushes.

Pushing to his feet, Noctis headed over to the side of the sturdy flooring, to look down at the water. He wondered if they had fishing open there. That was a great time waster, and something Noctis legitimately enjoyed. He’d only started fishing a few months before the Empire struck their deal with his father, so it wasn’t like he was terribly experienced, but he had fun.

As he reached the ledge, and peered over, he expected to see his reflection first and foremost, before he could adjust his eyes and see past it and into the actual canal. While he did indeed see his reflection, what looked back at him was so shocking he couldn’t look away, and there was no way that the ripples of the water and shadows of the roof above were to blame.

His body appeared battered, with blood seeping from his nostrils, and his eyes reddened to the point of blackness, and his steel blue eyes highlighted by that, and heavy raccoon-like bruising around them, over his sockets. His body was a mess of gashes, scrapes, tears and bruises, and his shirt was gone, allowing for more of the horrific image to be seen. When he lifted an arm and turned to the side, he felt sick at the bruising that lined his flank, and how it rippled in the pattern of his actual ribcage.

“ _Noct_!” Prompto shouted, grabbing at Noctis shoulder, both in a way that made it obvious that he had been trying to catch his attention for some time.

Noctis turned and looked at the blond, his face pale and his eyes glassy, as though threatening him with tears that he had to fight to hold back. It was unkingly to cry.

The wide-eyed concern of his friend’s face panged at Noctis’s chest. Something was so wrong with him. Fundamentally wrong. Wrong at the deepest levels of his mind, his heart, and his soul.

Prompto frowned deeply at him and leaned in close as Noctis just stood and stared at him, fighting back a tremor in his shoulders by pulling tight. “Noct… I know it’s hard, and I know you’re holding back because you don’t want to hurt the wrong people, but you need to wake up now,” he murmured. “Come on, buddy. Come on. It’s okay. I’m right here with you.”

“I don’t understand,” Noctis breathed out, laughing nervously in spite of himself. It was a reflex, a nervous tick that he’d never had in the past. Was it just another indicator that he was losing his mind? Or was it true that the insane never realize they’re insane?

He turned away quickly from Prompto, to look back at the water. He wanted to see if his reflection was the same, or if it went back to normal. Maybe, if it was normal, he could get back to feeling grounded.

There was no time to really look, though, because a large hand wrapped around the back of his neck and shoved him down for the water. He saw someone next to him, but he couldn’t make out anything about the person’s appearance, before his head was completely submerged. He fought back as hard as he could, and he could hear some sort of ruckus topside, but it was muffled by the water.

His lungs started to ache, his body reflexively holding onto whatever air was possible. Noctis recalled the day Cor told him about the human body and drowning. It was an odd conversation when Cor went looking for him, and found him fishing.

The Marshal had joined him in sitting on the edge of the pier fro which Noctis was casting. “Careful that you don’t fall in, Cor,” Noctis had said, glancing at him. “I bet those boots are like cement in water.”

“I’d have enough time to get them off,” Cor replied, amused slightly. “The human body’s resilient in a drowning scenario. Most people think the instinct to breathe overrides all, but it’s the opposite. Your body knows that it needs to survive, and it takes real effort to get it to inhale water. Drowning usually happens if you pass out, or lose too much energy to fight.”

“That’s… awesome to know, I guess,” Noctis said blandly, not too interested at the time.

He was glad he recalled that, because it gave him something to expect as his vision went red, and started to descend into darkness.

What he _didn’t_ expect was when his attacker grabbed him by the back of his belt and flipped him, feet in the air, right into the ice cold water. The shock of being completely submerged was temporary, as his body mercifully descended into complete darkness, a respite from even dreams passing over him.


	11. ----

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One could take this as a revelation, or perhaps it's just another deception?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to read more about the following subject that goes on in Noctis’s mind at the beginning, I would recommend ‘The Stranger in the Mirror - Disassociation: The Hidden Epidemic’ by Marlene Steinberg M.D. to start!
> 
> Also, please heed the tags! While this contains no -violence- as of yet, we have depictions of death of adults and a child in a morbid display, and lots of descriptors of pain and the subject matter of disassociation in brief.

The floor was cold.

 _He_ was cold.

As Noctis slowly regained consciousness, he found that his eyelids were still so heavy, he was having a hard time even opening his eyes. His nose picked up on the potent smell of burning. Burning wood, burning fabric, burning… skin.

The realization that that was what he was smelling had Noctis forcing his eyes open to try to look around. The first thing he saw was his hand, skin battered and tattered, with nails black with bruising. It was absolutely foreign, what he was seeing, and he had no idea how to consolidate that in his mind. It couldn’t possibly be his hand.

Trying to move produced a range of pain that far exceeded that which he experienced when he was nearly killed as a child. Every last inch of him was in agony, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. It felt like his skin was both frozen and yet melting off his body at the same time.

When he was in pain as a child, he focused on things in his room when he intended to sit up. He would focus and pretend he was at that object, and not in his bed, and that always worked. It was like stepping out of his body with his consciousness, to allow his body to do all the painful stuff while he focused on something else that was free of it. Maybe he could do that again.

Looking beyond his hand, he desperately sought out something, anything, that would give him a focal point.

The first thing he could actually focus on in his bleariness was something he wished he could unsee.

Stacked at least to his height, a pile of bodies laid, smoldering from an unseen burning heat. Bodies belonging to regular people, by the clothes they wore, but not of Lucis. Their clothes were warm—coats, boots, gloves—and bloodied, tattered, their bodies stacked with no great care. Some were incomplete. One such body was a particularly small one, about in the middle and wedged under much larger ones, that was lacking an arm and a foot, clearly gone before the body was placed there. No blood had pooled under it or the pile as a whole… but… who…? How?

Although his instinct was to turn away, Noctis used the little one as his focal point. He wanted answers, and so he focused as hard as he could on that little body as he started to try to get to his feet.

Who was the child? A boy? A girl? Where were they from? Did they have parents? Siblings? Pets? Did they go to a regular school and have regular friends?

As he asked himself those questions, he felt as though he was standing right there, right in front of that body. Observing it, trying to decipher its story. It allowed him to ignore the agony in his flanks, the cracking of his hands, the dizziness brought from a sore throat, large headache and ragged breath.

He’d learned in school about that trick, years after he’d discovered it. Disassociation. There were different levels of disassociation. There were the healthy kinds, such as acting like different people depending on one’s company, or feeling ‘out of one’s body’ when a traumatic event was occurring. It was nice to receive confirmation that he wasn’t crazy. That his discovery of that method of focusing and pretending was a normal way of escaping the pain of reality.

He _wasn’t crazy_.

Before he knew it, he’d actually made his way to that pile of bodies, one arm loosely wrapped around his torso. He had no shirt on, and it was so cold, wherever he was. Mercifully freezing, because it was likely numbing his wounds, of which there were plenty. He couldn’t remember where they came from. He couldn’t remember getting hurt. He couldn’t remember the air being so cold.

On one of the larger bodies above the child, he noticed what appeared to be some sort of ID badge hanging off the man’s neck. He carefully reached forward and turned it over so that he could read what it said on the front, hoping for some sort of answers.

[][][]

**_YEVIN, PAUL Y._ **

**_Employee ID: 15-343-A_ **

**_Horizon Agricultural Consultants_ **

**_Cartanica Division_ **

[][][]

“Cartanica?” Noctis asked aloud, stunned. Or, he tried to ask that out loud. His voice came through so sore and incoherent, he didn’t even recognize it as his own. He clapped his other hand over his throat, and was stunned to feel how swollen the tissues were. It was hot to the touch, and felt nearly double the size that it should have been. What in the hell had _happened_ to him?

“There he is~” a man’s voice chimed from behind him, cheerful and deep.

Noctis slowly turned, although he was moving as fast as he could, to see who was addressing him. That was when he really realized where he was standing.

It was some sort of dam, with not a drop of water in its levee. Barren lands surrounded the dam, with hills in the distance bearing not trees, or bushes, but plenty of snow. To his right, he could see the ocean miles away from that dam, and a series of streets leading to and from it. To the left, a tall bridge that held an immobile train rested. It all felt so lifeless. Like time had stopped, or all live had been stripped from the area.

Well, aside from Noctis and the man in green in front of him.

“You’ve done well, my boy,” the baritone pitched man said. He carried himself with such a confident swagger, it was actually sickening. Was he not seeing the death behind the prince? Or did he just not care? “It’s time to go, your Highness! Your job is done. Your purpose complete. We’ve only one last step to finish in order to truly call this book ‘complete’. Let’s go! To Gralea!”

The red-headed man turned away and Noctis stared at his back, stunned and unsure what he was seeing. Could he even be sure the man was real?

That question didn’t matter, though, because with the man’s attention elsewhere, Noctis’s eyes were greeted with the images of his best friend and the one he loved: Prompto Argentum and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.

They stood there, their arrival sudden and their appearances clean and drenched in a copper glow from the sun setting in the distance. Both were smiling softly to Noctis, side by side.

“You finally woke up,” Prompto said with a sad smile. “Now, you gotta stay awake.”

“It’s not over yet, Noctis,” Lunafreya said, her voice like music to his ears. How desperately he had wanted to hear that voice for so long, the Empire refusing them contact for years. It broke his heart, even though he never let a single soul know as much. Noctis shambled towards her, holding his hand out to her in a desperate attempt to touch her. “Your mind aches and your soul yearns. You must start working to _remember_ , Noctis,” she urged, her voice tender and sympathetic.

Just as Noctis got to where he _should_ have been able to touch Luna, her image vanished before his very eyes, and he could feel his heart shattering within his chest. Just after a desperate, pained gasp of frustration, Luna reappeared in his peripheral vision, just out of his reach.

“You will not like what you find as you search your mind for the truth,” she continued softly. Noctis’s eyes welled with tears as he tried to figure out if he was crazy, or what the explanation for what he was seeing could possibly be, and it made her smile sadly, just as Prompto. “The world awaits you with bated breath, praying you regain yourself, sweet Noctis.”

“You got four hours, Noct,” Prompto added, looking to the sun as it lowered into a cacophony of reds and oranges, purples and blues for its sunset. “It’s all on you now. Stay awake. Play the game. Eos is counting on you.”

Noctis choked out again as he tried to say his best friend’s name, but the word just couldn’t escape his throat. Tears slid down his cheeks and he grasped at his chest with his free hand, wishing he could take hold of, and still, his racing heart.

The pain in his chest only grew. As fast as it took to blink his eyes, the images of two of the dearest people in his life were gone without a trace, and leaving him just with the dead, that man in green, and an airship that was lowering down to pick them up, no doubt to take them to Gralea.

The man turned and looked back at Noctis, waving a hand to him. “Come along, sweet pet! Time is wasting away with each second you stare at me like some neanderthal!”

‘ _Stay awake. Play the game._ ’

What did that _mean_?


	12. EXORSA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is playing the game... for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to see this leveling out a little! A teenie tiny bit.
> 
> Okay, so this also might be a mess. I wrote this at the worst of times, but there is one detail inconsistency that is deliberate.

What game was being played?

After boarding the airship with Ardyn, Noctis was allowed to do as he pleased. He slowly loped his way to a corner of the main area of the massive vessel, hoping it would stay the farthest from the chancellor. Time was needed to think and try to figure out if he was dreaming, or if he was finally in reality.

Just after he had lowered himself onto the floor, he was greeted by a young woman with eyes that were a haunting, unnatural violet-gray. She was about Noctis’s age, and her hair was black like his, with eyes that bore the same, slight slant that he and Gladiolus had to theirs. Honestly, she looked like she belonged in Insomnia, not Gralea.

On her body, a medical kit was strapped, and she went to sit on her knees in front of him. First, she reached over to feel his forehead, and then opened the kit to start pulling various items out, laying them around her and between them in meticulous order.

Noctis watched in silence for a while, before asking in a painfully hoarse voice, “What’s all this for?”

“You’re talking?” the young lady asked, freezing in her work and looking at him in surprise. Her accent was Lucian. Was she actually _from_ Insomnia?

“…yeah,” Noctis replied, very suddenly hesitant with her.

“…mm. This is for your injuries.” She looked back to her items, and pulled a wrapped piece of something that looked like candy. After unwrapping it, she offered to put it in his mouth. “This’ll help your throat a little. Make it feel less raw,” she said. “I’ll get you a coldpack for the bruising, your Majesty.”

Noctis warily accepted the lozenge. It had a bitter, and yet sugary, taste to it, and it was awful, but he kept it in his mouth on the hopes it would, in fact, make him feel better. The burn that it caused initially made him doubtful, but between it and the freezing gel pack that the girl offered him for his neck, it started to feel better. Numb, anyway. “…what’s your name?” he asked.

“…Exorsa,” the young lady replied, just as hesitant as Noctis. “You can call me Exo.”

“Exo,” Noctis repeated. “Sorry if—if I’ve been difficult lately.” He didn’t remember any of it, but it felt like the right thing to say in that moment.

Exorsa watched him as she prepared a spray to disinfect the wounds he could see over his body. “It’s fine. I was brought here to take care of you. I’m not a particularly good doctor, but I’m a fine field medic.”

“I appreciate it,” Noctis insisted. If she really was Lucian, she was one of his, and there was no reason she would be there unless she was a captive, right?

“Close your eyes, please.” Noctis obeyed the request, a bit sad at how robotic Exo acted. She didn’t seem… right. Her eyes were so vacant, as though she too had disassociated herself from her current situation.

A hiss emanated from in front of him, and he felt the cool, soothing sensation of the spray as it went over his face, his neck, his chest and arms, even over the open holes and cuts in his pants, to the damage there. She was quick and thorough, even getting his back, but was rooted right in front of him when she gave him permission to open his eyes. “We’ll allow this to dry, then I’ll bandage you up.”

Noctis nodded, and they both fell into silence. Awkward, but brief, it wasn’t long before Noctis was the one to break it.

“…I don’t remember anything,” he stated. He just laid it out there, in the hopes that maybe she could help.

She looked at him, first with an expression of doubt, but that quickly gave way to pity that only slightly reflected in her eyes. “I’m sorry, your Majesty,” she whispered, looking at the space between them. “You’ve been through a lot, so it’s really no wonder.”

“Maybe… you can help me remember?” he asked, cautious, and after a look around for the man in green. That airship was massive, and had multiple floors, judging from the stairs—leading up and down—on both sides of the main hold. “Have I done something wrong?”

Exo squinted an eye closed at the question. “Well… yes, but I’d hardly consider it your fault,” she whispered.

With those words, spoken so quietly, it was the first time Noctis realized he wasn’t hearing out of his left ear correctly. He couldn’t hear her at all, and had to lean in with his right to understand the words she was saying. The sound for the left ear was somehow both tinny and mute. It was honesty quite frightening, but Noctis couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

“Please tell me,” he implored. “Everything you know. Please. I want to understand. I’ll look out for him.”

“I don’t know how this started for you, though,” Exo insisted with a frown.

“It’s okay. Let’s talk about what happened leading up to you getting here.”

“Well, alright… Mm. It was… almost sixty days ago—”

“ _Two months_?” the prince, who was being addressed as a king, asked in horror.

“Yes. The day that the Empire and Lucis were to sign the ceasefire treaty. There were a lot of problems going on at the time, including the fact that the Empire had taken Lady Lunafreya against her will. We were ordered on a retrieval mission—”

“Wait… are you… are you part of the Kingsglaive?” Noctis breathed out in surprise.

“Was. There was… a betrayal,” Exo explained quietly. “Most Glaives weren’t from Insomnia, or even Lucis, as you know. They… They decided it better to help assist in the treaty masquerade, and killed all the Glaives who didn’t side with them, or were native and thus not told. All I remember is falling from the airship and being in too much pain to think of warping.” She tilted her head up and pulled down the collar of the burgundy shirt she was wearing. A deep, red scar laid across her throat, clearly from a knife dragging over and through her skin. Noctis winced at that, but stayed silent. “When I woke, I was on this airship instead. With the chancellor. He asked if I had medical training, and I said I had. Well. I nodded. I couldn’t speak. Still hurts to an extent. He made me care for myself first, and then you arrived.”

“Arrived…”

“You really don’t remember?” she asked, frowning.

“No… I don’t… really know what’s real anymore.”

Exo frowned at that, and drew quiet as she started to wrap his wounds the best she could. There were so many of them, he’d have had to be wrapped up like a Solheim mummy to really effectively take care of all of his body.

When it became obvious she wasn’t going to say more, he leaned down a bit to catch her eyes. “Exo, please,” he urged, voice but a whisper. “ _Please_ tell me what you know about this. If I start to remember, I’ll make you stop.”

She pursed her lips as she considered his plea, and ultimately nodded. If it was because she wanted to, or because the plea came from her king, he wasn’t sure.

“It was a couple of weeks after the retrieval mission and the attack on Insomnia,” she said, going back to tending to his body. “You had a head injury and severe case of road rash. He said he ‘rescued you after a car accident’ in Gralea. The news went from saying you died in Insomnia, to you died in Altissia… It was hard to think of it, so when I saw you, I was relieved. He told me to bring you back to health, so I did. It was a concussion and burns from the road, so hardly a trial, but then you woke up and he made you an offer.”

“An offer?”

“’The Crystal is what made this happen. Stand with me, and we can put an end to its torment on your family, and on the family Nox Fleuret’,” Exo parroted. “You immediately said—”

“—no…”

Exorsa looked at Noctis as his eyes spaced out, and asked, “…are you remembering?”

“Not… everything. But that, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

{{{{{}}}}}

The light that shone above his head was so bright that it made Noctis wince and hold a hand up to block it away from his eyes. His head hurt, his body was sore, but otherwise he felt fine. He wasn’t sure where he was, and he slowly pulled to an upright position on the cot on which he found himself.

The room was spartan in nature, and absolutely unfamiliar, with no windows, a singular door, and a bathroom that had nothing but half-walls separating it from the rest of the quarters. Judging by the way it felt under him, it had to be an airship. He hadn’t been in an airship in ages. Not since he was a child during his visit to Tenebrae, but the feeling was unmistakable.

Before he could think of standing and orienting himself further, the door of the room opened, and in stepped the man in green. Noctis’s steel blue eyes narrowed as he honed on him, feelings of pure rage building inside of him.

“Ardyn. _Of course_ ,” he snapped.

“How _dreadful_ a reception,” Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim, lamented, putting the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. “After I saved you from a certain death, no less!”

“A death caused by _you_.”

Not wanting to endure that mouth of Ardyn’s for too long, Noctis shoved to his feet, and whipped his hand out to the side… only to produce nothing. He repeated the gesture, trying to bring out his engine blade, but once again, it was like a magician trying to pull off a magic trick, but the literal trick up his sleeve had malfunctioned.

His eyes went wide, all while Ardyn feigned a gasp. “Oh dear!” he said with the worst acting Noctis had ever seen. “It seems as though you can’t get it up. Performance anxiety?”

“What did you do to me?” Noctis demanded. He grabbed at the bandages covering the road burns he’d acquired in his accident, ripping them from his body.

“Well, I must admit that I’ve heard you are a terrible guest,” Ardyn quipped as he leaned against the doorway. “Never willing to just take off your shoes and enjoy yourself. I can’t have you dirtying the place up in blood.”

“You think that’s going to stop me?” Noctis laughed incredulously. The laugh was short-lived, as he went for Ardyn. He’d absolutely fight him without his weapons or his Armiger.

However, just as he got close enough to swing at him, Ardyn vanished from his sight. He stumbled forward with a gasp, eyes wide. There was no chance to recover, either, before a strong hand was grabbing his hair from behind, and another cinched onto his throat. He was yanked backwards, against the broad chest of Ardyn, who turned them both around, and shoved Noctis right back for his bed. In spite of trying to stay upright, Noctis tripped over his own feet and slammed forward, hitting the frame with his chest more than the mattress, and winding himself to the point he had to slide to the floor and heave to regain breath.

“I want to talk, Noct,” Ardyn insisted as he moved around to his side and stooped down to look at him.

Noctis couldn’t respond due to lack of air. Beyond that, he was distracted as he looked to the doorway as he saw movement there. Standing, with a thick bandage around her neck, was a young woman he’d seen at the Citadel plenty of times. He never got her name, but he knew she was a member of the Kingsglaive. If not for the bandage around her neck,the worried look on her face, and the busted lip she bore that matched her black right eye, he would’ve worried about having to deal with another treacherous Glaive. As it was, it was clear she was there against her will, and her worried, bold-green eyes reflected that fact.

“Everything that’s happened to you and I, no one present is to blame for that,” Ardyn said, his voice dropping an octave. “The Crystal is what made this happen.”

Noctis snorted bitterly.

“Stand with me, Noct, and we can put an end to its torment on your family, on the family Nox Fleuret, and—”

“No.” The answer wheezed out of him, his air only partially returned. He hit that frame far harder than it even felt initially.

“What?” Ardyn asked, actually looking legitimate in his surprise.

“After everything you’ve done, the people you’ve killed… I’ll never, _ever_ work with you ever _again_. I was stupid to think you were helping for anything other than your personal gain before.”

“I see.” Ardyn clucked his tongue. “Well, that puts us in an uncomfortable spot, doesn’t it? Tell me… where’s the Ring of the Lucii?”

“No where you’re going to find it,” the _king_ snapped.

“I do believe that,” Ardyn conceded. He sighed dramatically as he leaned in so close that Noctis actually leaned in the same direction, just to get away from him and the wicked smile that broke over his face. “So, I guess I’ll just have to dig it out of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much if you got this far!! You're great and I hope you have a great day :3


	13. In My Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of his Glaive, Noctis is attempting to find the pieces of his mind that he's lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the -obvious- sexual tension in the room, it won't ever go in that direction.

The memory of his capture by Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim, was whirling against all the memories—both potentially false and potentially true—that he’d accumulated in his delirious state, and it was all Noctis could do to not completely lose his mind. It made his head hurt.

Neither he nor Exorsa had seen Ardyn since the man entered the left stairwell of the airship, leaving them in the cargo hold. Without any grasp of time, thanks to no windows, no clocks, nothing, they couldn’t say how long they were there. Either way, Noctis was glad to have a Glaive with him, even though it made him furious that she had seen her fair share of problems at the hands of the man in green.

After she finished tending to his wounds, the Glaive moved to sit next to him, resting her back against the hull. Noctis watched her on occasion, when he wasn’t staring ahead, into space. Although her actions with him had decreased in how robotic they seemed, she was still hollow. He couldn’t remember her past the memory he regained, but something told him that she was supposed to be far more lively than she was then.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Noctis said, his voice still hurting, but not as bad as before her care.

Something about that startled Exo far greater than he had anticipated, and she focused on him with a frown. “…why? For what?”

“For this. For… everything. I don’t know what caused the Kingsglaive to turn like that, but I’m sorry,” he said, looking down in front of him.

“It’s hardly your fault. I don’t even think the traitors blamed you specifically,” she said honestly. She rested her head back once again, closing her eyes. It was as if her head was too heavy for that scar, and she needed to alleviate pressure. “I’ve been thinking back, trying to figure out what went wrong. If I had ever overheard anything that would indicate a reason.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and I think I get it. Every so often, the ones from other places, refugees, would complain about having to fight a war that wasn’t theirs. I don’t know how they figure it wasn’t theirs. They lost their damn homelands because of the Empire. It’s only because of King Regis that they could live free and have the powers they did, but apparently they were tired with going out to war. Yeah, war is terrible. If I’d have had my choice, I wouldn’t have wanted to deploy repeatedly over the years. It’s not a great place to be, but we were doing it to protect Lucis, to protect the people who lived there, native, immigrant and refugee alike.”

“I… guess I understand,” Noctis sighed. He was too tired to be angry at the thought of that being their reason. “But the fact that they wanted to kill those of you who didn’t agree…”

“Or didn’t know. I don’t think any Lucian Glaives were told. I wasn’t. They probably assumed—rightfully so—that we would reject whatever plan they had brewing. But the betrayal was so… swift and relentless. My partner came up right behind me, slit my throat and threw me overboard without a single word or sign of hesitation. The last thing I saw was Nyx fighting his way through the ship with Lady Lunafreya.”

Noctis bit down on the inside of his lip, something that was short-lived as he came to realize even there had damage. “I’m glad some stayed loyal,” he sighed, rubbing his cheek. It gave him hope that Luna was alive. For all he knew, he’d already seen confirmation of her being alive, but he couldn’t remember anything yet that would confirm it for him. He couldn’t trust any of the memories he had that didn’t include validation from Exo.

Exo sighed and lifted her head once more, in order to look at Noctis with her bleached out eyes. “So, do you remember anything after the initial talk with the chancellor?”

“…no. I might need more help,” he replied with a slow shake of his head. “I have all these… false memories dancing in my head. I don’t… even know if _this_ is real.”

“Okay.” She didn’t question that, and he was relieved. The Glaive scooched closer to Noctis, in order to speak in a lower voice. “First, I don’t think he actually picked you up in Gralea,” she whispered. “I think you were still in Lucis. I could be wrong, but the air smelled… like Lucis, not Niflheim.”

“That’s disturbing…” Noctis replied with a frown. Why the elaborate lie, if that was the case?

He didn’t ask that out loud. One thing at a time. Fortunately, Exo was on the same page, it seemed. “Anyway, after you rejected him and refused to disclose the location of the Ring, he grabbed you and held you down and… had me drug you.”

The way she winced, Noctis felt compelled to say, “It’s okay. You’re a victim here, too.” It wasn’t like she had her powers any more than the person she received her powers from in the aftermath of King Regis’s death.

Exo didn’t appear convinced, although she nodded gratefully. “You seemed to respond to something he said the last time. I’m trying to think of something else that’s been _said_.”

“Anything might do,” Noctis replied. His head _really_ hurt, but he needed to keep pressing forward. He needed to figure out what reality was.

Actually, what he _needed_ was for them to figure out how their abilities were being stifled as they were. They could tear that airship apart, if only they could have their powers restored.

“Okay, well, when you came to, I wasn’t allowed in where you were, but he ordered that I stand just outside. This was on the lower deck.” Exorsa’s eyes spaced out again as she recalled what happened. “I… don’t think I heard a good chunk of the conversation, but I _do_ remember hearing him say, ‘I’m going to propose this one last time: Stand with me and take a vow to end the Crystal’s tyranny over your life. You’re the Chosen King, after all. Of anyone, you should know how it lords itself over you.’ I don’t know how true any of that is, but…”

Noctis didn’t respond, instead staring at the space ahead of him.

{{{{{}}}}}

The world came back with a sharp pain to the side of his face. A single slap, meant to stir the prince from his slumber. He attempted to raise his hand, to rub his eyes, but was startled to find that both his arms were strapped down against the arms of a chair with thick, leather cuffs. His legs were bound to the front posts of that metal chair, too, in order to prevent him from kicking. Noctis frowned and tried to fight against the cuffs, to no avail.

He looked up then and saw Ardyn standing before him. “That scared of me, huh?” he snapped.

“Hardly, but I don’t like it when people squirm too much,” Ardyn retorted. “Distasteful, that.”

Noctis snorted, never dropping his glare.

“Are you ready to have that talk?” Ardyn asked, receiving no response in return. He tsked at that and looked to his left. In the room of contraptions that were unrecognizable to the young man at that time, Noctis looked in the same direction and found that they were in the presence of two Niflheim soldiers, and five MTs.

The five stood against the wall, in some sort of charging stations. Four bore the characteristic green masks and grey steel armor, while the centermost one wore a mask of blue, its armor completely black. He couldn’t recall ever seeing that specific color scheme before, and he didn’t know what it could mean.

“It seems our sweet king is having a difficult time wanting to play nice.”

“Given the trouble he’s caused for us, I’m not surprised,” one of the soldiers said.

Ardyn took a step back from Noctis and gestured. “Far be it from me to ruin your revenge, my boy. Just remember: Face intact and don’t cripple him.”

“What are you talking about?” Noctis demanded, starting to fight harder against his binds.

The two soldiers walked over to him, peering down through the slots of their helmets, the one that had spoke prior staring at him with hatred in his eyes. The other that watched him had a more feminine touch to their eyes, although it was hard to tell if that meant that that soldier was, indeed, a woman, or if it was just a guy with a thing for mascara.

He didn’t get much further in his thoughts about the two when they hooked chains into loops on the top portion of his leather cuffs. It allowed them to release the cuffs from the chair, and pull the chains still attached taught, which forcibly hoisted him to his feet, arms in the air. That was a big mistake though, because his legs were still attached to the chair. He was best with his melee weapons, but Noctis had been learning martial arts for longer than he’d been learning weapons, and despite the residual handicaps he possessed from his injuries as a child, he was _strong_.

Needless to say, what was supposed to hold him in place was turned into a weapon after he shifted enough to know the chair wasn’t bolted to the floor.

He tensed the muscles in his arms and stomach, throwing his legs—and thus, the metal chair—up into the air, and swinging in such a way that it allowed him to slam his feet and the furniture into the most certainly male solder. The metal hit the man’s armor with a loud clang of metal and sent him toppling backwards. Holding himself firm and using the swinging motion started in that attack, he swung and twisted, aiming to strike the other.

The blow was successful, and the grunt that escaped the second soldier confirmed it was a woman under that androgynous armor. Noctis didn’t care beyond general curiosity, but it was good to know.

The only really terrible part was the fact that, when he brought the chair down and swung back, then forward to attempt striking Ardyn, he was _just_ out of reach, and he grabbed the chair with ease. “So feisty,” he chuckled.

Grabbing the chair just so in both hands, Ardyn twisted it sharply to the right and yanked back all the more. The way Noctis’s body twisted and was yanked, and, as a result, caused his left shoulder to pull from its socket in a painful, and audibly horrific dislocation. The pain spread rapidly from the joint, into Noctis’s neck, then head, and then down through his spine and flank. A yell of pain escaped Noctis, but it was short-lived as he went to suppressing the show of pain.

Even when Ardyn just allowed the chair to drop, the motion jarring Noctis’s injury all the further, Noctis locked his teeth and did his true best not to express the pain he felt on the outside. Thanks to the stilted posture that a dislocated arm held up above one’s head caused him, it was impossible to get his feet flat on the ground. It felt as though his entire body was tangled in upon itself, and he couldn’t really do anything.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Noctis,” Ardyn said as he paced in closer to Noctis. He raised his foot and set it atop the chair, between the prince’s legs, leaning in close. As always, he knew how to make things as uncomfortable as possible for others. “Now, let’s lay out the rules of this little game, shall we?”

He pushed the chair backwards a couple of inches, causing Noctis’s body to bow forward, and strain both his arms in different, but equally painful ways. Noctis seethed quietly, but didn’t take his eyes, flashing with anger, off Ardyn’s face.

“I am going to break you and everything about you. I’m going to destroy you and rebuild you in my image,” Ardyn said, his voice dark and expression sober, yet accompanied with a smile in his eyes. “The harder you fight, the longer this will take.” Another couple of inches back with the chair brought more pressure to Noctis’s arms, and the prince actually wheezed as that pressure started to translate down into his ribs.

Ardyn started to chuckle as he watched pain flash through Noctis’s eyes. “Oh, what am I saying? You _are_ the heir of the throne of Lucis. Stubbornness is in your _nature_ , and I have eternity to spend on you.”

He looked to the recovered soldiers and gestured to the chair he was holding in such a way that Noctis stood no chance of righting himself. It was at least a foot or two out behind him, his body arching forward and down painfully. The soldiers moved in, the man holding two planks of wood, and the woman some sort of power tool. Noctis was unable to turn his head to see what they were doing when a battery of loud noises started, the chair vibrating and shuddering.

Noctis wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when Ardyn stepped away from how uncomfortably close he was from Noctis, Noctis wasn’t able to right himself still. They’d anchored the chair down in that position. The prince would’ve laughed bitterly if he could even do more than wheeze.

“Leave him,” Ardyn said to the two, his tone firm but amused. “Don’t let him sleep. Our little Glaive and medic can surely reset his arm whilst he’s like this. Give him just enough water every hour to keep him hydrated, but nothing else. Let’s see if he’s willing to talk in a couple of days.” He leaned in to Noctis’s face and smiled. “I’d like to keep your body as intact as possible, not just your face, _my liege._ ”


	14. Remembering Farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince is slowly piecing together the start of his journey and his nightmare. Although his mind is unreliable, and out of order, he is doing his best with the help of the Glaive in charge of his medical care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t guessed by now, I’ve been using certain symbols to break things for certain reasons. Because that list is growing, here is a legend to help you out! (Note: I might have used a variation previously, but this will be the rule going forward.)
> 
> ————— :: New scene, same timeline/time period for Noctis  
> ##### :: Dream  
> {{{{{}}}}} :: Flashback  
> {{——}} :: end flashback  
> ~~~~~ :: Flashback within a flashback
> 
> Noctis’s brain is a mess at this point, as if you couldn’t tell by now. I will also start chapters with these symbols to help you out. However, if there is nothing at the start of the chapter, it’s safe to assume (and context should confirm) that the start is Noctis in his current predicament. I would add more symbols to designate the ‘present’ and ‘reality’, but I’m going to allow context to do the work there!

{{{{{}}}}}

Even with the help of the Glaive’s care in putting his arm back in place, he wasn’t able to lower his arm after the soldiers cinched it back up with the other and forced her out of the room. There was only a second in which she was able to inject him with something in his arm before they shoved her away, and the world was slowly starting to teeter around him more than the airship itself. The pain was less, though not completely gone, and it helped him accept that the Glaive on that ship wasn’t a traitor.

Still, the pain was there and he was doing his best to do what he did as a child, when he was fresh out of the assassination attempt on him, and that was to dream. In his greatest moments of pain, when he couldn’t sleep from the discomfort, he instead thrust himself into daydreams, distancing himself from the agony. ‘Disassociation’ or ‘dissociation’ was what it was. He was pulling himself out of his body.

He did so then, too. To escape the pain in both his shoulders, worse in one over the other, he focused in on himself, and then tried to push himself out of his body, into memories of happier days. Well, maybe not happier days, but better ones.

His back burned as bad as it did when he was a child, with the way gravity had taken over and was tugging on his body’s center of gravity, as though to unite with it. His legs were trembling and felt numb.

He just wanted to go home.

~~~~~

“Are you sure this is wise?” Ignis Scientia, advisor and steward, asked his prince, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably. He then folded his arms and rooted his feet to the ground, hesitant to move even an inch.

_He’d relived this before, but it felt… different…_

“Of course it isn’t,” Gladiolus Amicitia, King’s Shield and battle tutor, answered before the prince could himself. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Ignis, forming a wall of extreme dissatisfaction in the face of the one they were sworn to protect.

Noctis sighed and folded his arms over his chest, staring at the two, which soon turned into three, when Cor Leonis joined in the onslaught of disapproval. He moved in to the other side of Gladio, so that all three of them stood in Noctis’s way, and he couldn’t reach his car. “It’s the dumbest idea I’ve heard to date, frankly,” Cor added.

“Noct, just say the word, and we’ll get in the car with you,” Ignis implored. He gestured behind him at the vehicle. “If it’ll help you feel better about it, we’ll go pick up Prompto, and—”

“ _Stop_ ,” Noctis interrupted. He leaned in to the three, lowering his voice. “I don’t trust the Empire, okay? I need you guys to stay here, stay with my dad. Why is no one asking why it _has_ to be _now_ that I’m leaving for this wedding thing? Something’s up with this, and I’m not risking taking away from the manpower here. I’ll be fine out there on my own. You guys trained me well. Just trust me, will you?”

“We’re dedicated to _you_ , you dumbass,” Gladio grumbled, leaning back against the driver’s seat door. “You know goddamn well that we’re supposed to be sticking with you, not with King Regis. We’re not supposed to be worrying about _here_. We’re supposed to be worrying about _you_.”

“I know, but it’s bad enough that he’s ordered a flip in the guard,” Noctis acknowledged and elaborated. He was talking about the decision his father made to put the Kingsglaive on guard duty for the Citadel, and sticking the Crownsguard out in the city. It didn’t make any damn sense. “Please. Stop _fighting_ me on this. I’ll be _fine_. You trained me, yeah?

Gladio was about to argue, until he heard Cor say, “Let him go,” as a sigh escaped with those words.

The younger men did _not_ like that. “Sir, we’ve no idea what he might face out there,” Ignis pointed out. “What dangers might lay ahead for him.

“I do,” Cor advised. “Not much has changed in the years since I traveled with King Regis and his other retainers. So long as the Empire remains busy here, I see no reason to just trust him.” He looked back to Noctis. “But if _anything_ starts to go wrong and you have some sort of advanced warning, you call. You call me, you call either of them. We’ll come to you as fast as we can.”

“Right,” Noctis replied, nodding firmly. “I will.”

Gladio and Ignis still didn’t like any of that plan, and it was written all over their faces, but they ended up taking a step back as Cor waved for them to move, effectively clearing the way for Noctis to reach his father’s wedding gift to him: the Regalia.

Noctis opened the car door and looked back to the three. None of them looked thrilled, though Cor just watched in somber silence, while Ignis was clearly worried in his very subtle way, and Gladio was just mad. “Take care of him,” Noctis requested, glancing up where his father was still standing on the stairs, watching his son’s departure. “Just… take care of him, please.”

“We will,” Cor promised. “As best we can at the stations we’ve been given.”

“And you take care of yourself,” Ignis pleaded of Noctis. “Don’t just eat junk food and stay up playing video games. Eat well wherever you can and get plenty of sleep. Stop at every safe place you can if necessary.”

“Yes, mom,” Noctis replied, dropping dropped into the car. “I’ll be safe,” he added in promise.

With that, and a final farewell with the three, Noctis pulled out from the roundabout parking area.

No, he didn’t want to leave at all. While he was absolutely fine—excited, even, in his own way—with marrying Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, he wasn’t fine doing so when the enemy was invited into their home. It didn’t feel right, but he hoped that his father had planned for every scenario and would be able to handle it if the Empire double-crossed them. Because he had no choice, outside of who came with him, and so he was going to make the journey to Altissia alone.

Anyway, it was better. Better for the best of the best to stay in the Crown City, just in case the signing of the ceasefire treaty went sideways. He trusted no one like he trusted his personal people to do everything they could to protect his father.

God, he hoped his worries were for nothing.

—————

After settling into the RV camper on Hammerhead’s property his first night out of Insomnia, Noctis had taken to sitting outside of it at the little table placed there, looking to load up King’s Knight and see if Prompto, Ignis or Gladio were playing. They didn’t really use text messaging anymore, unless it was something important that really didn’t need to be on the server of some game.

Unfortunately, all three were offline, and so he sighed and started to play the game himself. It wasn’t long, however, before he was being interrupted by Cid Sophair, who had come over and dropped in a seat across from him.

“Yer real stupid, y’know that?” the old man asked after groaning in relief from being able to sit.

“Huh?” Noctis asked, surprised and a little offended at Cid’s comment.

With a groan from an old, aching body, Cid sat across from him, and leveled his eyes on the prince. “Comin’ out here without yer retainers? What’s wrong with you, boy?”

Noctis shook his head clear and furrowed his brow. “I don’t trust the Empire.”

“Which is fine an’ all, but y’should know that means they could come after y’too,” Cid commented sternly.

“I’ll be fine,” Noctis insisted. He shut down the app on his phone and darkened the screen. Folding his hands around it, he looked to Cid more evenly. “I’ll be a hell of a lot more fine than they will be, since the Empire’s swarming Insomnia likely as we speak, acting all ‘nice’ and shit.”

“I hope yer right, kid, ‘cause ain’t nothin’ any of us can do if things go sideways.” Cid gestured around, meaning either Hammerhead, or the entirety of Lucis. “What’s on th’schedule tomorrow an’ after?”

“I head to Galdin Quay, catch a boat there and head to Altissia for the wedding,” the prince replied.

“An’?”

The stern way Cid asked that told Noctis that the old timer wanted a bigger plan than that. Noctis sighed and dropped his head back briefly, before leveling his gaze on Cid once more. “Get hitched and, provided Insomnia is still standing, get back and start planning to rip the Empire from the inside out.”

“An’ if this ceasefire treaty isn’t what their sayin’?”

“What, like if they manage to take out Insomnia?” Cid snorted and nodded in unison. “I’ll tear them apart from the outside in?” The way he asked that question, it was as though it should’ve been obvious, not that he was actually asking Cid’s opinion.

“Where in th’hell did Reggie go wrong with you, boy?”

Noctis frowned at that, but suppressed responding.

“Y’better be careful, son,” Cid said, relenting and standing slowly. “That cocky attitude a’yers is only gonna go fer so long before y’run into real trouble. But never mind me. I’m just an old coot.”

“I didn’t… even… call you that…” Noctis grumbled as he watched Cid lope away, back for the garage.

It was hard to believe Cid used to travel with his father. Then again, the stories Cor told about it gave an entirely different impression of Cid in the first place.

…thinking about those stories from Cor made Noctis wish, just by a margin, that he could have brought Ignis and Gladio with him. Prompto, too…

{{——}}

The memories of how his journey started were brought to an abrupt halt when a sharp, long pain broke across his back, changing the amount of pain he was suffering and causing him to return to reality. Whether he wailed in pain, or locked his teeth and bore the pain in silence, he wasn’t present to know. He came to just after such an expression, and was left with a sizzling, sharp streak that throbbed and burned.

As he really began to come to, he found that the soldiers had moved that chair closer to under him and fastened it there, his mind dormant from reality during that time, so he hadn’t noticed. They apparently wanted him to return to that point with them, because the male soldier was holding some sort of belt in his hand that was jagged from deliberate, makeshift cuts that made the leather sharp. Sharp enough that the tan hide was streaked in blood, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was his.

He looked down, and realized that, at some point, they had taken him down from his cuffs in order to remove his shirt. Well, he supposed they could have cut it off, but on some level, somewhere between consciousness and subconsciousness, he had a vague, buried memory of them removing it by lowering his hands while he stood in a mindless stupor. Best to have clothes on the ready instead of trying to find new ones, he guessed.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Noctis said through his teeth, glaring at the male soldier. “I have _nothing_ to give you.”

The response was two-fold. The first was in the form of another whipping of the belt across his back, across the first wound dealt by it. That time, he could feel the blood as it oozed from the slice left behind, and seethed as he felt the heat of it trickling down his back.

A pained, bitter laugh escaped Noctis as he swayed a little on his hands, his knees momentarily weak.

The second was another’s laugh, Ardyn’s laugh, as he stepped forward from in front of Noctis. Since the prince had come to and immediately looked behind him, he hadn’t noticed him there. “On the _contrary_ , sweet prince. On the contrary indeed. You have something that you’re scheduled to obtain, and I’m going to take you to do it.”

“ _What_ ,” Noctis snapped, more than asked.

“A date with the Archaeon, Titan,” his captor advised. He busied himself with revealing a syringe with a rather large needle, uncapping it once it was free from his pocket. “We’ve got to go get his blessing, but I’m afraid he won’t give it to you like this. Oh, no, no, no. We need to make you compliant.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m _not_ going to work with you,” Noctis barked through his teeth. God, his skin hurt worse than anything else.

“No, that’s ‘complicit’, I just need you ‘compliant’,” Ardyn advised. “If I had more time, I’d happily make you _complicit_ , but that will have to wait for later. The Archaeon and the Fulgarian aren’t going to wait forever, and your little ‘out to lunch’ thing you’ve done… well.” He smiled with a sickly sweet demeanor that made Noctis flinch. “We can use that later. Right now, let’s get this medicine working, shall we?” he asked, displaying the syringe again.

{{——}}

“…and that’s why I think he lied to you,” Noctis murmured to the Glaive at his side, serving as a captive audience. He’d finally started talking to her about what he was remembering, and she hadn’t disturbed him one time.

“That… makes sense,” Exorsa said, bringing her knees in to her chest and hugging them. “If he had picked you up in _Gralea_ , and you were obtaining the blessings of the Six, you should’ve had Titan, Ramuh, Leviathan _and_ Shiva by then.”

“Yeah. So either he lied to you about how much time has passed, or he’s jumbled my memory so bad, I can’t even remember going to get their blessings.”

“Seems like the former would be more plausible. There are no windows around here, and honestly, I have no idea how long I was healing versus when you were hauled in. No clocks, no sense of time. There are no patterns of behavior in the chancellor, the airship, or the MTs that man it. That’s one of the things we’re taught to do during our Prisoner of War training with the Kingsglaive, but there’s none of that.”

“Like he knows you’ll be looking for such things.”

“Yeah, it seems pretty deliberate…” Exo combed her fingers through her hair idly a few times, looking understandably nervous. She’d been through a lot, too. “Well, I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while yet, so if you want to keep trying to remember…” she offered.

Noctis nodded, although he was admittedly starting to feel tired. He needed to try to remember as much as possible before he went to sleep. What if the chancellor took advantage of his guard lowering to try to manipulate his thoughts again?

No, that didn’t make any sense. However, Noctis was understandably paranoid after all that happened lately. At least none of his memories, nor Ardyn, nor Exorsa had told him to ‘wake up’. He was going to use that as his scale to determine reality until further notice.

It was the only thing he had that was halfway reliable…

He hoped to whatever god was listening that he didn’t lose that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I think I want to write something separate to this that's a bit more light-hearted. If you have something you wouldn't mind seeing, you're welcome to place a request! Consider it my big THANK YOU to the people who have made it through this far!


	15. A Dream of Violence and Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever been so relieved to see someone, that all the anger you had in your heart was all but forgotten?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be tinkering with narrative a little. Up until now, I’ve been playing this from a third person limited perspective, exclusive to Noctis. In order to get what I’d like across, this will bounce to a bit more of an omniscient level at times, or I will bounce to the OC’s POV, or others’ POVs, in the same narrative style as normal. Where it fits! So, if the narrative suddenly switches style midscene, please know I’ve done this deliberately and not because idk what writing is. I have about a 33.3399% idea of what it is, anyway!
> 
> Also, as always, I sincerely appreciate your patience with typos and grammatical errors. Again, I have no beta, and I am on strooong medication for a chronic joint disorder, so even though I reread it, I won’t catch everything!
> 
> LEGEND (because it’s not fun unless it’s impossibly complicated, and I want it to be here so you don't have to go back a chapter!):  
> ————— :: New scene, same timeline/time period   
> ##### :: Dream  
> {{{{{}}}}} :: Flashback  
> {{——}} :: end flashback  
> ~~~~~ :: Flashback within a flashback

“Do you remember what sort of drug he was introducing to me, by any chance?” Noctis asked of Exorsa.

She had moved back in front of him when he said he was feeling pain in his chest, and had him lean back so she could peel away layers of his bandages, and see what could be the cause. It didn’t feel very deep, he said, which was why she was hoping she could get an answer without pleading for access to a CT machine or something.

“He used a few to my knowledge. I can’t say I know the names of the drugs, as they’re likely Niflheim Specials, but the one I injected you with was a sleeping drug. I think that was what he used the next time, but the third time… that was an entirely different beast. You became… nn.”

_…images of violence and pain in a terribly vague dream…_

“Please… you need to help me remember, Exo,” Noctis urged. He needed to understand reality before he could think of anything else. His desperation had the Glaive sighing and nodded.

“I’ll do my best, your Majesty.”

{{{{{}}}}}

Wherever the prince’s mind was at, it wasn’t with them in the present. Wherever he’d checked out to, it was hopefully a pleasant place. Perhaps reliving his stay at Galdin Quay?

Truly, hopefully it was a pleasant place, because as it was, when he emerged from that torture room, he was blank faced and not objecting to the cuffs and chains on his arms, being held by both soldiers. He wasn’t even aware of the five magitek soldiers walking behind them, their bodies clattering and clunking as they moved, or Ardyn, who led the charge.

He was escorted past Exo, who had been secured in the side corridor of the lower floor, to the wall by her own hands, attaching her binds to a metal, reinforced loop on the wall. The risk was that the Glaive might try to break out whenever they had to land, but she needed to be in a convenient spot for her services if they became necessary. She also couldn’t be on the middle deck, the hangar, no doubt to avoid her seeing the passage of time, or where they were located, when they opened the airship to leave or enter.

Up to the center deck the group walked, over to the cargo entry. Wide open, the ship was grounded in front of a large, metal door. Ardyn continued out and down the ramp from the airship, and Noctis was forced to stand still while the soldiers prepared to loosen him from his chains.

When Ardyn spoke, Noctis’s face remained blank, staring at the ground below his feet. “The gods aren’t omnipresent, nor are they omniscient. If they were, they wouldn’t need Messengers or Oracles.” To whom he spoke, it wasn’t clear. No one was there but Noctis, the soldiers and the MTs, but Ardyn wasn’t even bothering to look at any of them. “Creation, they may be able; frail be their reign. The ire of they who breathed life into humanity, due to humanity’s ire of their inability to hear is quite hilarious, as it’s only the natural conclusion of this tale. When gods fail, the mortals in their charge revolt.” He turned to look at the blank-faced prince, who almost seemed soulless. “But now, you will go forth to the Archaeon’s base and plead your case to him. Receive his blessing, so that we may move on to the next!”

The chains were released, the cuffs removed, and the prince—fully clothed and cleaned, but not patched of his injuries—was sent forth, up the volcanic disk’s path from base to center, to implore the god Titan for his blessing.

The god that hoisted up a meteor that he long ago caught in a desperate attempt to protect humanity, and under which he found himself permanently wedged, wouldn’t be giving up his blessing so easily. Not because he knew of the prince’s plight. Or, perhaps, because he did.

Either way, the earth god, implored by an unknowing Oracle to bestow that blessing on the Chosen King, required Noctis to fight him, which he did with a ferocity that earned the giant’s approval. As they fought, it began to rain. A torrential falling of drops that built quickly in the slightly sloped area in which Noctis stood. He paid no heed as he deflected and attacked with all his might, throwing everything he had into it without ever doing more than stare straight ahead, focusing on his mission with robotic dedication.

By the time the battle ended, the rain had dropped to a drizzle. The old god’s body had gone dormant and dark, with naught but flame from the meteor’s heat and water from the skies in his wake. The Prince of Eos, who then stood in wait for Ardyn and the airship, was already in view by the time he found himself looking for it.

Looking for it, and his keeper both.

~~~~~

_What was with the repeated, strange sense of deja vu?_

When Noctis awoke that fateful morning at Galdin Quay, the urgency to find out if Dino Ghiranze had successfully procured a boat for him yet had him racing through a shower, and running for the docks once he was changed. He was so focused on getting to Dino, he missed the odd silence of the patrons up in the main hall of the resort altogether.

Sure enough, Dino was seated there, waiting for him. His eyes were on the newspaper in his hands, and he wore a frown on his face. Noctis didn’t pay much mind to it. He might have, but he didn’t see a boat waiting at the dock, and that took precedence.

“Dino! What’s the word?” he asked as he jogged up to him, arching his back once he stopped, in order to straighten it out from the kinks he’d worked into it from crashing down the stairs nearby.

“It ain’t comin’, kid,” the reporter replied, looking up at Noctis. “I tried.” He spoke with a lot less vivacity that morning, compared to the day before.

An ugly sigh escaped Noctis as he threw his hands into the air. “Goddamn it, _why_?”

Dino looked confused, like Noctis should’ve already known. There was confusion, but then that melted away to pity. Noctis was close to telling him off, but held off when Dino leaned forward, and offered the newspaper he was holding to him. “I thought everyone checks their phone before anything else in the morning in Insomnia, huh? Especially the teens and twenty-somethings.” What should have been a generational joke came out with such a bland, serious tone, Noctis couldn’t take it as anything but bland and serious.

“Sorry, but I was distracted by a cheap tabloid reporter telling me I’d have a boat waiting for me,” Noctis grumbled, snagging the paper away to look at it. Whatever irritation he had for Dino melted away to pure horror once he laid eyes on its top headline.

‘INSOMNIA FALLS’ read the headline, with an article detailing how the ceasefire signing planned between the Empire of Niflheim and the Kingdom of Lucis fell through, with the Empire striking down on Insomnia and killing the king and most—if not all—his court.

“No,” Noctis breathed, staring at the paper in shock. “…lies. This can’t—”

“’fraid not, kiddo,” Dino said sympathetically. “I got contacts that managed to escape. They confirmed it. Even got some vids and pics.”

“No,” the prince objected, the word escaping as a breath. “I was just there a couple of days ago—I was—someone would’ve called…”

“Kid, there’s a very good chance that whoever you would rely on for that is dead,” the reporter insisted.

That was enough, and not something he was prepared to accept.

Noctis threw the newspaper to the bench beside Dino and said nothing as he took off running back up the stairs. No, no, _no_. He needed to see it for himself. He needed to… He needed to try to get back to the city if it was true.

No, it couldn’t be true. Ignis or Gladio or Prompto would’ve called, right?

Did he hand them a death sentence, too?!

When he got to the Regalia and started to get in, his phone started to ring. At first, he assumed it was one of his friends, but instead, Cor Leonis’s name came up on the screen. So, he answered it and started up the car. To hell with distracted driving, he couldn’t get more distracted than he already was.

“Cor! Cor, what in the hell is going on?!” he demanded. “The news—”

“It’s what they’re saying,” Cor confirmed.

“I’m coming back—”

“No, there’s no way you’re getting past the roadblocks, and it’s too dangerous anyway.”

“What do you expect me to do?!” Noctis questioned, his voice spiking up in his devastation.

“Meet me in Hammerhead, and we’ll talk about this.”

“Where are Gladio and Ignis?!”

“ _Noctis_ ,” Cor said firmly, clearly trying to get the prince to focus.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Meet me in Hammerhead,” the Marshal repeated.

Noctis growled in frustration and disconnected the call. The phone was dropped in his pocket and, although he was acting like he was going to do the opposite, Noctis started for Hammerhead once more.

—————

By the time he arrived at Hammerhead, Noctis had to put up the roof on the Regalia, thanks to the torrent of rain falling from the sky. In the distance, heat and smoke poured up high into the atmosphere from the direction of Insomnia. It made him angry. Really, really angry, and he swore that Cor had better have answers for him.

He didn’t even pay attention to where he was parking on the premises as he got out and looked to the sky, large Imperial airships sailing around overhead, to and from the Crown City. It didn’t much matter though, because the entirety of Hammerhead was filled with cars and people alike, talking about the destruction there and panicking as they continued to look overhead and in the direction of Insomnia.

Noctis was glad it was raining, because tears of anger and worry were biting at his eyes, and he didn’t want anyone to know.

“Hey, prince,” Cindy Aurum said as she carefully approached him from the garage, her normal fire gone from her face. He supposed it stood to reason that even the people out in the rest of Lucis would be worried. Even though they would have been written off with the successful signing to the Empire, they hadn’t been yet. He wasn’t sure what they were thinking, not entirely, but maybe they held out hope that it was temporary, before King Regis could amass enough military strength to push back again. Honestly, they had their hopes up for good reason, since it was Noctis who had planned to do that.

He was relieved, in a guilty sort of way, that of all the people who had gathered there, where several were looking his way, that there was nothing about them that spoke of anger or feelings of betrayal. Not at him. At least there was that. A more thorough glance around made him realize that many of the people there were Crown City citizens, if only by the models and makes of the cars filling the parking lot. That might’ve had a lot to do with the lack of anger at him. They were more used to the royal family than the rest of the country. They would have also known he wasn’t in the city, having departed for his wedding two days prior.

“Have you seen Cor?” he asked after his look around at the people within eyeshot. He looked to Cindy expectantly. “Marshal of the Crownsguard, said he’d meet me here.”

“He came by,” Cindy confirmed. “He moved on ahead up north to an outpost—”

“So, my Marshal’s in another castle,” Noctis clarified bitterly, folding his arms. ‘ _Goddamn it, Cor_ ,’ he thought to himself.

“But he asked me t’have ya stay here for at least a day,” she continued, watching Noctis’s face. “He—”

“Not gonna happen. That son of a bitch told me he’d meet with me here, and then he runs off and expects me to just sit here?”

“—said that th’ guys he brought with ‘im are friends,” Cindy continued. “They’re in th’ garage.”

“…friends?”

Could it be?

Noctis veered around the blonde, breaking into a run for the garage. Between his speed, and the water mixing with the oil-slicked drive in front of it, he nearly crashed into the ground when he stopped by the wide open door, saved only by his hands and reflexes.

As he righted himself and looked inside, his breath caught and his chest panged in pure relief, enhanced by his stress. He wanted to start crying, but did a damn good job of hiding it.

There, standing around a seated Cid, were his friends.

Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum, and Iris Amicitia.

The four turned, and the relief was quick to emerge from them as well. The teenage sister of Gladio took off from her spot, running out into the rain, so she could throw her arms around Noctis’s waist. “Oh, Noct! I’m so glad you’re okay!” she said, her voice shaking as she did her due best to not cry as well.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine—are you okay?” Noctis asked, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her backwards until she was back under the garage, and out of the rain.

She reached up to wipe at one of her eyes, deep bruising on her forearm on display as she did so. Regardless of the purple-red coloring, she nodded her head slowly. “Gladdy and Ignis were able to come get me and Prompto,” she said quietly.

Just as he frowned at the bruises on the teenager’s arms, it was then that it dawned on Noctis that it was very likely that their father was dead. He wouldn’t have left King Regis’s side in the attack. The prince didn’t have to speak to Cor to realize that. “I’m… I’m sorry, Iris,” he said quietly.

“What for?” Gladio asked as he approached them. Noctis looked at him rather pitifully, only to earn a flick of Gladio’s finger to his forehead.

“Ow!”

“A Shield stands by their King,” his own Shield said, clearly knowing to what he was referring.

Noctis rubbed his forehead, and was immediately bumped a bit to the side when Prompto skipped up next to him and patted his shoulder. Decked out in Crownsguard fatigues like Gladio and Ignis, it reminded Noctis that he’d originally wanted Prompto to go with him to Altissia and serve as his Best Man. It was only because of the sinking feeling in his gut that the Empire was going to pull something that he asked him, too, to stay home in the Crown City.

“We’re glad you’re okay, buddy,” Prompto said with a smile. He looked tired, but it was hard to drown out Prompto’s good nature. It was nice to see.

“Yeah, you too,” Noctis said.

“So, what’s your next step? You finally gonna let us go with you?” Gladio asked as he folded his arms over his chest

“I certainly hope so,” Ignis commented next to him, watching Noctis out of concern. “Now that there’s not an Insomnia to stay for.” Frank and serious as always.

Noctis didn’t respond right away, glancing out of the garage, at more refugees as they pulled up into the parking lot. There were so many people who were displaced, and yet not as many as there should have been. How many people _didn’t_ make it out?

“Hammerhead can’t support all these people,” he said, looking back to the four. “You need to help them get to Lestallum. I haven’t been there yet, but it’s supposed to be big enough that it should be able to house a lot of them. Anyone else, they need to be found places they can stay around Lucis.”

“Noct—” Ignis started to object, but the prince wasn’t listening.

“I need to get to Cor. I need to figure out what to do and where to go from here.” To hell with ‘staying at least a day’. Noctis turned to leave the garage, but was grabbed firmly by his shoulder. When he turned back, he saw it was Gladio gripping him. “What?”

It was clear that Gladio was about to ream him, but Ignis quickly stepped in with, “Noct, I know a lot is on your mind at present, but I need you to think about this: With Insomnia fallen and your father’s death, the Empire will surely be seeking you next. The last thing you should be doing is running off without us from this point forward.”

Noctis was hearing Ignis, but he disagreed. “Once we’ve got as many refugees as possible in places they can stay and be safe, we can talk about you guys coming along. I’ll be headed to Lestallum after I meet with Cor.”

Before anyone else could object, he pulled from Gladio’s vicelike grip and headed out of the garage, back into the rain and walking with purpose. There was so much to do.

{{——}}

They had landed quite some time ago, and all had been silent since the Chancellor passed by with his entourage escorting Prince Noctis.

Exorsa had taken a seat on the floor, her hands raised where they were almost even with her shoulders, thanks to the cuffs that held her in that hallway. Had she all her skills, those binds would have been nothing to freeze and break. She imagined it several times whenever Ardyn had her locked tight so she couldn’t take advantage of a landing to escape.

He tried to play the, ‘Oh, you owe me for saving your life’ card several times with her. While she pretended she bought that, she knew better. Especially since ‘saving her life’ meant he would crack enough potions on her to keep her from bleeding out from her wound, but forced her to repair her own injuries. With her own tools from the medical equipment bag strapped across her chest, she was forced to sit in front of a mirror and stitch her own throat shut.

It was like some sort of horror movie come to life. Her partner had cut her clean open, and no potion would have healed her entirely. No cure spell outside of that which the Lucii or the Oracle’s family could produce would have knitted her body closed. The potions slowed the blood and allowed her to do what she could, and only after her skin was fully closed, did the potions start to work (slowly) on her voicebox.

When she was told she was there to provide medical services, she wasn’t able to respond that she wasn’t a doctor. She was trained in field medicine. When a fellow Glaive was damaged, innards out across the ground in an injury far surpassing even the Lucii’s powers of healing, she was trained to hurriedly put them back together and how to wrap their bodies to prevent bloodloss and further exposure, in the hopes that they could be retrieved and taken for care that would save their lives. She was trained to use her curative spells to spread over wide areas, to heal superficial wounds so that she and her fellow Glaives could continue the fight without pause.

She was trained in emergency care, so one could survive long enough to make it to the doctors who actually healed them.

Needless to say, when Prince Noctis was first brought on board, Exorsa felt a deep sinking feeling as to what would happen to him, given why she was there.

By that time, she was allowed to freely roam the airship so long as it was in flight. She was still too weak to think of doing anything clever to try to escape, and the prince added a new layer of difficulty even if she wanted to try at that point.

Her fears for what was planned for him were confirmed when she had to treat him the first time, after the treatment of his wounds from a clear car accident from which he was tossed out and landed on the street.

It was when he was brought back from whatever Ardyn needed him to do outside the ship. Exorsa had just started to dose off where she was chained up at, and was kicked awake by the female soldier. “Up and at ‘em, Glaive,” the woman said as she released her binds. “Finish up and you’ll get your rations.”

It was the same thing being done to her… just at a greater magnitude.

Noctis was seated in that little bedroom, on the wiry bed, with his shirt off so that she could see what needed patching. It became abundantly obvious that _whatever_ he had been up to, it only made the injuries over his body from prior worse, and he hadn’t been healing himself from the damage delivered during his absence.

“Your Highness…?” Addressing him as a prince, she felt, would give him a little more comfort right then. Noctis was notoriously modest when it came to his station, but it didn’t feel right to address him only by his name.

He looked up to her, but said nothing. His eyes couldn’t focus on her, and he didn’t really move otherwise. Even when she started with the most severe of injuries—the slashes across his back—he didn’t really acknowledge what was happening. It should have hurt tremendously, but he never once even tensed his muscles.

Exorsa could see what was happening. It was why she didn’t stitch his wounds, and only closed them with butterfly bandages. They weren’t done hurting him yet, and she didn’t want to risk them ripping and tearing at thread holding his skin together because, in the end, skin was very much like fabric. If the seam of a shirt was torn apart, it would render the seamed pieces impossible to fix without cutting away the damaged pieces and drawing in more that would work. And, just like a shirt, there was only so much that could be done like that before the skin would have to be added to in order to prevent it from being too taught and tearing anyway.

Stress positions, drugs, sleep inhibition and torture.

Four very important keys when seeking to brainwash someone.

Ardyn Izunia was seeking to brainwash the prince… but _why_? To what end?

Exorsa knew she would need to figure out a way to get them both free. She just wasn’t prepared for how long that would take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this will start getting more cohesive, but this jumbled mess IS deliberate.


	16. And they had a king over them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Holy. Shit.
> 
> So, I owe an explanation on this lapsing.
> 
> Basically a lot of things have happened in the last few months. Complications with my health and my family’s health, and transitioning from one job to another. That sentence is a bit of an over-simplification, too. One detailed piece is my oldest sister has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. That’s been fun.
> 
> Anyyyyway. I’ve lost track of the story. Not like the overall plot and such! Just the drive I had initially for writing it, so I’m going to be doing a few things:
> 
> 1\. I am going to be most likely switching tone/voice (not POV, I’m a loser who can’t write in anything but 3rd person) because I lost that in the span of time it took to return to this. This might lead to detail discrepancies.
> 
> 2\. Changing up presentation. This is more deliberate, as I want to get back into this, and so I need to go where my brain is allowing me to go!
> 
> 3\. This dovetails to the other two (actually, all of these could have been one point LMAO) but I’m going to make these longer. They’ll be slower in release (but hopefully not ~2.5 months worth of slow!), but hopefully they’ll be better.
> 
> So, thank you if you read all this! I hope this goes well. LET’S FIND OUT.

“Now, do you remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat it for me.”

“Meet with the others, meet with the First Secretary, listen to the Oracle’s address, garner support of the others, meet with the Oracle, sleep, fight the Tidemother, await further orders.”

“Very good. It’s okay if the order isn’t entirely correct. So long as you do everything you can to cross off all items on the list, I don’t care the order you do it in.”

“I understand.”

Strong hands rattled him as they shook out and straightened the collar of his clothing. Noctis Lucis Caelum allowed his body to teeter back and forth, but said nothing. His steel blue eyes focused on nothing, despite the auburn-haired man in front of him giving a bright, white smile, just inches from his face.

He did nothing as the captive Glaive moved to carefully place an earpiece in his ear, which was small and colored to his own skin, camouflaging the minute she drew her hands back. “Fighting Leviathan will tear his injuries open,” she said quietly.

“All the better for legitimacy,” Ardyn Izunia chuckled. He took Noctis by the arm once Exorsa was done fixing a portion of his hair, and started to lead him along.

With every step, the world around him grew hazy. It grew hazy and difficult to process. He felt like he was marching into a foggy abyss, led by his captor. Led by his…

***

…who?

***

Blinking rapidly, Noctis spun around quickly, stunned when he found himself standing on one of the piers of the main Altissian harbor. He only knew _that_ much when he turned and saw the various signs all over the place. “How in the _hell_ did I get here?” he murmured to himself.

He trailed forward, to the check-in counter, dazed and confused but with nothing to work off of. He knew he was supposed to be in Altissia, he was supposed to meet with his friends there after he insisted on parting ways following meeting with them in Lestallum. It was a clinical, sterile memory. He could explain how it went to anyone who asked, but he didn’t have any emotions attached to the events. It felt as though he was reciting memories told to him more than memories he experienced.

…his body hurt.

It had to be the lack of sleep.

At the check-in counter, the uniformed standing there asked, “What’s your purpose here in Altissia?”

Noctis stared at him for the longest time, wishing Ignis was there. He wanted a discreet entry, and Ignis was so good at crafting stories. He was so stupid for continuing to insist on going it alone.

Eventually, an answer fell out of his mouth. “I’m, like, a _huge_ fan of Assassin’s Creed. Ezio Auditore is my favorite character.”

The man at the counter looked completely baffled, scrunching his brow and staring at Noctis. “…really?”

“Yeah! I—uh—I wanna go around to the different landmarks and stuff used in the game,” Noctis went on lamely. “You know, when people take pictures of real places to match a frame in a game or a movie, or—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” the man said, waving his hands to get Noctis to shut up. He went to print out a ticket of some sort and slid it over to Noctis, through the hole in the protective plexiglass separating them.

“…the hell is this? A movie theater?” Noctis asked, taking it as his turn to be baffled.

“This just proves you spoke to us and we cleared you,” the man replied, his tone turning flat. “You’re probably Lucian. You’re _probably_ from Insomnia, by the looks of you. If you run into anyone from the Empire, show them that.”

Noctis frowned, but nodded. “Thanks.” Was his appearance really that obvious?

Of course the Empire would be there. They likely heard that he was on his way, and since Luna was supposed to be there (or so he assumed… was it Gentiana who told him that? When did he see her last?), that was probably a storm they wanted to keep from happening.

Leaving the counter, and exiting the turnstyle, Noctis went over for a small stand that had maps of all sorts on it. He studied one of the displays and waited for the man attending the kiosk to finish with another person. When the old man finally turned his attention to Noctis, he asked, “May I help you, young man?”

“Ah, yeah. I’m looking for a Weskham Armaugh.” (Who told him that name, again? Cor?)

“Oh! You’re looking for Maagho, then,” the elderly man said. He pointed past Noctis, over to a man standing atop a small boat. “Go to the gondolier and ask for him to take you there.”

“…right. Thanks.”

The gondolier was nice enough, and the view on the ride to whatever Maagho was actually really lovely and peaceful. Noctis actually was a pretty large fan of the video games series of Assassin’s Creed, and particularly of the character of Ezio Auditore. He wished the situation was less dire, less confusing, because he would have liked to have done the exact thing he said he was there for, but with some additional free running. He and Prompto used to emulate the free running from those games all the damn time, he was so into it. He wondered if Prompto had made it, and if it was just as exciting to him. If he was taking pictures like Noctis lied about to the entry guard…

What did Ignis think of the architecture and the living history? What did Gladio think of the women?

Questions that had amusing answers were nothing but sad to Noctis. He shouldn’t have shunned his friends from accompanying him. Their presences in Insomnia did nothing to stop it from falling. He should have taken their advice and allowed them to go with him.

So caught up in his thoughts, the prince didn’t even notice when the gondola stopped, and its driver had to reach over to shake him at the shoulder. A sharp pain wracked through his shoulder and up, through his neck. He seethed and went to stand, to get off the gondola.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

The gondolier seemed concerned about hurting Noctis, but since the young man wasn’t saying anything about it, the gondolier simply bowed to him. “It was my pleasure. We come through in ten minute intervals, so keep that in mind when you’re ready to leave.”

“Right. Got it.”

Noctis turned, still rotating and rubbing his shoulder. God, he must’ve slept funny. That had to be why he felt so out of sorts, right? He was stressed, not getting much sleep, and apparently the sleep he did get was poor. Even his memory was spotty. What was that PSA about driving back in Insomnia? Don’t drive when tired, or if you haven’t slept in a long time, because it’s like drunk driving?

The restaurant was quite the simple one. Set in the lower bowels of the city, it was only accessible by guests via the gondolas. The large platform provided space for maybe fifty people at the most, and that included guests having to stand due to lack of seating. Noctis wondered how they stayed afloat monetarily, right up until he glanced at the menu while waiting for the bartender’s attention.

Good _God_ , were they expensive. Noctis, never wanting anything yet never wanting _for_ anything, never understood why people paid to go to establishments like that. It seemed ridiculous, and a waste of—

“Well, I’ll be.” Noctis lifted his eyes to look at the bartender as the bartender looked back to him.

He was an older gentleman, with dark skin and aging that made it hard to discern his exact year. He looked about Cor’s age in his face, but his hair was snow white. While Noctis didn’t recognize him outright, something panged in his chest, a sort of nostalgia or… longing.

“Ah… are you Weskham?”

“The very,” the man replied, resting his hands atop the bar and looking Noctis over with scrutinizing eyes that reminded Noctis of when Ignis was studying something. “It’s been _years_. I know you don’t remember me, boy. You weren’t even able to crawl yet, last I saw of you. Doesn’t look like you’ve gained much weight to match that height of yours.”

“Huh?” Noctis looked down at his reflection bouncing off the glassy protection of the fine, wooden bar. “O-Oh. Huh. I didn’t notice.”

“Let me get you something to eat.”

“No—No, that’s alright. I’m not… very good at eating foreign foods.”

“Neither was your father,” the older man said with a deep chuckle while he moved away from the bar.

“Wait… what?” Was he implying his father was picky, too? Since he was Regis’s steward at one time, Nocti supposed he’d know best.

“I’m sure you never got to see that side of him,” Weskham said as he took to making something on what turned out to be an elaborate kitchenette on the lower inside level of the bar. Noctis leaned up a bit to watch with interest while the older man spoke. “He swore he didn’t want to set a poor example for you, and learned to eat food like normal people. I’m sure your mother—bless her soul—helped with that, as well. I’m sure my decision to retire once you were born had a lot to do with it.”

“Wow. Yeah, I… I had no idea he was a picky eater. He was always trying to get me to eat things I didn’t like.”

“Before he met your mother, we came here to Altissia to speak with the First Secretary back then,” Weskham detailed. “I spent a good portion of the first day wandering restaurant to restaurant, finding recipes from cooks willing to divulge them that I could modify for Reggie to eat. After all of that, I went to the market, purchased everything, special for making a dinner I was convinced he’d eat. I get back, cook it up. Him, Cid and Cor get back, and he takes one look at it, and goes, ‘I can’t eat this’.”

“What was it?” Noctis asked, way more invested in that story than he probably would have been before he left Insomnia. Weskham, unlike Cid, was welcoming. Unlike Cor, he wasn’t running from place to place and making Noctis chase him.

“Spaghetti,” Weskham replied. “But instead of a red sauce, the sauce was green due to different, but sweeter, products used. He didn’t like anything that was green. He’d eat fruits and vegetables, mind… just not if they were green.”

“Man, I’d mock him so hard if I could,” Noctis said in a brief show of humor. It still hurt, knowing what happened to his father, but the world kept on moving, didn’t it? The comment caused Weskham to chuckle.

“We mocked him plenty, that’s for sure,” he agreed. He glanced up at the prince as he worked. “Your would-be retainers stopped by when they got here.” It took everything for Noctis not to flinch at the ‘would-be’. “Had a young blonde man and Clarus’s girl with them.”

“Ignis, Gladiolus, Prompto and Iris,” Noctis said in understanding.

“Yeah, that’s right. Good kids. They’re staying up top at a rather nice hotel, at my behest.”

“…why?”

“Because you’re going to them, right? You’re going to have to look sharp.”

Noctis frowned and looked at the bar. “Right.”

Outside of a glance from his father’s former steward, Weskham left him alone until suddenly a dish of, amusingly, green-sauced spaghetti was being placed in front of him. Noctis snorted and went to poke at it with his fork. “It’s frog-green.”

“Have you ever even seen a frog, boy?”

“I caught some for a scientist once, but a couple were red.” That memory was so fragmented, but he remembered that much.

“I see.” Weskham chuckled a bit and gestured. “Go on, give it a shot. Don’t be your father.”

“I always did want to try frog,” Noctis said, his tone not showing if that was a joke or an admission. “Could I have some Parmesan on it, please?”

Weskham chucked again, and dipped down to pull out a small grater, preloaded with the cheese, and went to load quite the decent pile on for Noctis. “If you’re _really_ like your father, you’re going to want a ton.”

“Guess I’m _really_ like my father.” That was permission for Weskham to load the dish up with the topping, him stopping just at the point Noctis would’ve asked anyway. Noctis nodded to him. “Thanks.”

Satisfied with everything, Noctis went to take in a small, polite bite. That etiquette training still ran deep.

After allowing the taste to really sit in his mouth and go down his throat, and after just giving himself a chance to test the entire flavor, he opened his mouth to speak. However, nothing left his throat, and he frowned as a voice, small yet thunderous echoed from the depths of his mind.

*

_“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t eat so fast. You eat too much when you have eaten too little for too long, and you’ll get oh so sick!”_

*

“Are you alright?” Weskham asked, having been watching Noctis when he checked out on him and everything else in the area.

“Ah. Yeah. Sorry, I was just… thinking…” the prince trailed off, rubbing the back of his head.

Noctis looked around him. He was just about to conclude that things looked normal, and that he needed to probably get to that hotel to get some sleep, when Weskham let out a sigh. A glance at him and following his line of sight set Noctis on seeing a gondola that had just arrived, larger than the ones he’d seen prior, and carrying at least six different people. Five were uniformed as Altissian city guard, while the sixth—a woman—was in a blue dress suit. She was helped out of the gondola by two of the guards and, after dusting off her outfit, she started towards Noctis.

“Well. I’ll be: King Noctis, in the flesh,” she greeted.

“Not coronated yet,” Noctis retorted, suspicious.

“You were coronated when your father died.”

Noctis flinched. “And you are?”

“Camelia Claustro,” she answered, holding out her hand to Noctis. He went to stand and take it while she added, “First Secretary of Accordo.”

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Was he? It was more about etiquette, saying that, than actually being sorry.

“Oh, it’s fine,” she replied in a tone that was rather sardonic. “I’m sure news of leadership changes were slow to arrive to Insomnia.”

Something about her tone was not the thing Noctis wanted to hear. It rubbed him the wrong way and, before he really realized he was about to say something potentially terrible, the words fell out of his mouth.

“Not really. I just never really cared.”

Camelia looked at him from where she was smoothing out her skirt, staring hard at him for a few seconds into ‘uncomfortable’, before giving an amused snort. “Interesting. And you look so much like your father.”

Noctis furrowed his brow, and then crossed is arms. He wanted to respond with a fair amount of hostility at that. He knew she was insulting him. Clearly Weskham knew her, and she knew King Regis. But she was cocky and Noctis was too tired and in increasing amounts of pain to want to pacify her. However, he shoved down the need to retaliate in favor of trying to get to the point.

“So, uh, thanks for coming to greet me, I guess,” he said, to test the waters.

“Well, it’s the _least_ I could do for a visiting monarch, is it not?”

Noctis snorted, but refrained from speaking for the moment.

Camelia didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I have something you want. You have something I want in exchange. I’d like to discuss this in a more amicable environment, however.”

“Sure. Where?” he asked, still watching her closely.

“I understand your friends are here, staying at the premier hotel of Altissia. Why don’t we arrange to meet at my home tomorrow afternoon? Bring them with you, if you’d like.”

Noctis was honestly relieved that he’d be given a day to relax and rest up before having a real conversation with her. He didn’t show that, outside of his shoulders dropping slightly. “Alright. Three or so in the afternoon?”

“Three or so works,” she replied with an amused edge to her words. “Until then, your Majesty.”

She turned to leave, back to the ornate gondola awaiting her and her guard. Noctis stayed there until the gondolier started away with the small troupe of people, at which point, he let out a long breath of air he’d been holding.

“She’s a serious woman, but she cares about her people,” Weskham commented. Noctis turned back to him slowly. “They _say_ she has Lady Lunafreya in her care.”

“Really? I knew Luna would be here, but with _her_?”

“They say she granted the Oracle temporary amnesty and sanctuary, since the Empire has been clearly trying to get a hold of her. It’s very possible that the First Secretary will use her as a bartering chip with you,” the older man warned. “So… be prepared for that.” As he spoke, he produced a small, white paper sack that he placed on the bar top. It was the first time Noctis also noticed his food was gone. “Take your food with you. I’ve included utensils.” When Noctis didn’t move, instead just staring at the bag and Weskham, he nudged the bag forward a little with a faint glint of concern in his eyes. “Go on. Take it and get to your people. Tell the gondolier you want to go to Leville Station, that you need to get to the hotel. He’ll know which stop you need, and the hotel should be just to your left when you get off.”

“…ah, right.” Noctis shook his head clear and collected the bag. “Thanks, Weskham.”

“Of course,” Weskham said, watching Noctis’s back as he walked for the gondola. “Get some sleep,” he called. “And finish that meal. Eat, get a shower, and then sleep. Make sure to eat a full breakfast in the morning and get another shower. Be in as best of shape as you can, and have your friends speak when you can’t. That’s what your Shield and your steward are for!”

“Thanks, mom!” Noctis called back, waving his hand over his shoulder and not looking back. There was no way he’d be able to sleep, not until he had a chance to confirm that Luna was actually safe, and his friends were all in one piece.


	17. One woe is past...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is reunited with his friends+1, and nothing about what is being revealed regarding his relationship with that +1 makes much sense at all.

The ride to Leville Station was a blur.

Noctis tried so hard to focus, to remember what he was doing, but he was so _tired_. So tired, in fact, that he ended up not really realizing what he was doing until he was standing at the foot of the spiral staircase that would take him to the lower suites of the nice hotel, a keycard in his hand.

He vaguely remembered the attendant at the desk saying that they were informed he was the ‘last guest’ for that suite, and that the keycard was already programmed. He looked the little card it came inserted in, noting the suite’s number. For perhaps far too long, Noctis mused over how in Insomnia, the best rooms were at the top of hotel floors, in Lestallum, they were in the middle, and in Altissia, it appeared they were on the first floors. Well, the floor above the ground floor, anyway. Insomnia called that ‘the second floor’, but evidently Altissia called it ‘the first floor’.

Pulling his mind away from the age old debate of how to number multiple floors of a building, Noctis headed up and down the walkway, lined on the right with doors, and on the left with a railing that dropped off to the lobby. At the end of that walkway, an elevator that technically started on the ground floor was available, and a door for the stairs on up and down. He took note of both, just in case.

The suite he needed was behind a set of doors nearby, and he reached out with the keycard the moment he reached it. He dropped the card into the slot, the doors approving and unlocking with a beep…

…and then he just stood there, staring at the door.

A horrendous flood of inexplicable guilt struck him in the face, and wouldn’t allow him to move. At first, the prince believed his guilt came from how he left his friends continuously out of his own fears instead of listening to their wishes. Then, he realized he didn’t even remember the argument that transpired because of that decision. Just like before, he had the words on his mind, but it was clinical. Like he read the incident as told by someone actually there, and he had no emotional attachment to that conversation.

…was he broken?

There wasn’t enough time to figure that out when the door flew open and he had a weapon flying for his face. He had enough time to go wide-eyed before his body flared up in the blue hue of his magic, and he phased off to the right to get out of the way of the attempted stab via lance.

“Oh God!” Prompto yelped.

“Noct!” Ignis exclaimed in shock. Noctis shook his head clear and looked over as the lance was brought back in by Ignis. From what he could tell, Prompto had opened the door and Ignis attacked who they were fearing was an enemy.

“You couldn’t use the fucking peephole?” Noctis asked, gesturing at the glass hole in the door.

“My apologies, Noct,” Ignis said as he pushed up his glasses and allowed his lance to disappear. “The peephole’s shattered after our last surprise visitor.” He took a look at Noctis then, a frown briefly flickering over his face.

“What happened?” Noctis asked as he pushed through the two and headed into the main room to see how the suite was laid out. There was a large main room with a kitchen that Ignis was clearly already testing out, and rows of doors on each side of the room that were no doubt bedrooms.

“A misunderstanding, more than anything else,” Ignis replied.

Noctis turned and looked at him, confused, and that had Prompto stepping in. “We met a woman who said she crossed paths with you, before we got here,” he said. “Aranea Highwind?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” the prince replied with a shrug.

“Grey-white hair, carries a large sword and an attitude,” Ignis summarized.

Noctis thought about it. “…yeah, I think I saw her. What about her?” Once again, the memories were distant and clinical. She was the one that helped with his blackout, right?

Wasn’t she?

Oh God, were those memories even _right_?

After Ignis and Prompto exchanged looks, Ignis cleared his throat. “She’s a dragoon warrior for the Empire,” he explained. “Commodore of their military.” Noctis made a face, and Ignis held up his hands. “I know, I know, Noct. But hearing from her, she’s none too happy about the way the Empire has been conducting themselves as of late.”

“What’d she say they’re doing?”

“She didn’t,” Prompto replied. “But she helped us out, over in Lucis. The boat we were trying to prepare for you needed a mythril ingot thing, but it was in some old ruins that were filled with daemons. She helped us by getting it, and said she’d help you get here so we could take the boat and get things ready here for your arrival.”

“Which she said she did,” Ignis said, his tone a bit suspicious.

“Oh, God, Ignis,” Noctis hissed, shaking his head and swaying away from him. “Don’t start.”

“Noct—”

“I’m _tired_. I slept the whole way here and woke up on a bench, I don’t know what my name is right now. I want to shower, I want to sleep. I’ve got a meeting with the First Secretary tomorrow afternoon.”

“You’re apparently starving, too,” Ignis retorted firmly.

“I’m _fine_. Which room’s mine?”

Ignis looked about ready to die on that hill when the doors of the suite opened. “You know, there’s not much point in having locks if you’re gonna leave the key in the reader, boys,” Gladiolus said as he pushed the door open wide with his back and stayed there to not only allow Iris through, but also Aranea.

Noctis wondered what in the hell she was doing there.

The trio stopped briefly when they saw Noctis, but then Aranea gestured to Noctis. “See, I told you he’d wake up,” she said as she looked at Gladio.

“Don’t leave our king just laying around again,” Gladio replied firmly, like he was telling a kid to stop leaving her bike in the middle of the driveway.

Meanwhile, Iris hurried to Noctis, starry-eyed, and threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad to see you’re—” She stopped in mid-sentence for two different reasons:

The first was that she couldn’t believe how much bone she was feeling. It’d only been three, three and a half weeks. He was always a skinny guy, but he had a naturally muscular and slight build, not one of skin and bones.

The second was that he actively winced and tried to stood down to adjust where she put her arms.

She recoiled from Noctis and covered her mouth with both hands. It was the first time that Noctis noticed she wasn’t wearing her normal cute skirts and sweater-tops, but rather actually functioning clothing that would work well in the field. Gladio must have started training her in light of the fall of Insomnia, and her traveling with them.

And she wasn’t the only one to be stunned at his reaction to her hug. Ignis was clearly having a heart attack that only a loving mother could have, while Gladio looked ready to jump him and figure out what was wrong. Prompto was just stunned like Iris, while Aranea simply squinted her eyes.

Her look was the most curious. She didn’t look surprised, but just… sympathetic.

“I want my room,” Noctis ordered.

“Oh hell no,” Gladio snapped.

“Noct, are you hurt?” Ignis asked at the same time.

It was Aranea who rescued Noctis, by turning and pointing to a door that sat close to the main room’s balcony. “That one, kiddo.”

Noctis nodded and hurried off for that room, and Aranea hit Prompto before stepping in the way of Gladio. That was his cue to get in front of Ignis. “Boys…” She trailed off and looked over her shoulder. Once the door of the room shut, she looked back to them. “I know you’re worried, but he’s clearly too upset right now. You’re going to get jack shit from him. Let him have a shower. _Believe_ me, he needs it.”

“…he kind of does,” Iris agreed quietly.

Since Iris _had_ hugged him, the older men decided to trust that and relaxed slightly. “We all feel more human after a shower, right?” Aranea continued. “So, we’ll just all stay here in the main room. If someone has to go do something, no one else will. Let’s give him a bit. What time is it right now, blondie?”

Prompto pulled his phone to look at the screen. “Ah, 18:15, ma’am!”

“Okay, and how long does he take to shower and all that, glasses?”

“He doesn’t waste much time, but I would give him about an hour, considering.”

“Then let’s give him until 19:30. 7:30,” she said, looking to Iris when she repeated the time in standard time.

“I told you, I know military time,” Iris said indignantly, crossing her arms.

…Noctis had to wonder how long Aranea had been traveling with them to have that kind of repertoire with each of them.

He slowly sat up, onto his knees, from where he’d been watching them the best he could through the slot under the door. His body was hurting so bad, and he just wanted to lay down. But he needed to shower, and to try to eat, and he needed to sleep. He needed to shower again, come the morning—

Why was he planning so far ahead with such mundane tasks?

Shaking his head clear, he slowly crawled to his feet and headed for the bathroom. A shower sounded so good about then.

The problem was that he didn’t get a chance to enjoy it.

Not because of some horrible interruption, or someone out in the suite being impatient, but because he checked out entirely the minute he stepped into the shower’s stream.

**

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty, you need to wake up for me,” a hushed voice pleaded with him. As he tried to open his eyes, he felt the tug of his eyelids being stuck together from salty water that filled them the last time he was awake.

Once he finally pried his eyes open, he looked to the slender-eyed Glaive as she cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Exo…?”

“Shh. Don’t speak. Don’t move.”

Her saying that had Noctis trying to pull himself together, only to find he was still locked in place due to his arms being chained up above his head, tightly together at the wrists. His whole entire body ached. He couldn’t even remember why.

Exorsa tenderly rested a hand behind his head to support him, and raised some sort of nutritional bar to his lips. “I know your throat’s dry,” she whispered. “But this is moist. Please, you need to take a bite.”

“I hate the word ‘moist’,” he mumbled just ahead of trying to take a small piece out of the bar.

She offered a sad smile in exchange to that comment. “Sorry. I’ll learn better descriptive words.”

“Thanks,” he murmured around the bite. He watched as she took another look at the door that was the only way in and out of that lower floor. “…not ‘sposed to be here?” he asked after swallowing the bite. It was definitely easier to eat than bread would’ve been, but he swore some of it got stuck in his throat, anyway.

“I am, but only for your injuries. You haven’t been fed in three days. We need to keep your thought process up to speed.”

“Right.”

She started to raise that bar again for him, when she sensed someone about to come around the door, judging by the way she took a bite out of the bar and turned just ahead of Ardyn Izunia waltzing in. He looked at Exo and chuckled after he saw her with that bar. “Eating in front of your king? Perhaps you have a sadistic streak in you after all,” he said. “Because I _know_ you haven’t been feeding _him_ , correct?”

“I’m simply here to clean his wounds, Chancellor,” she insisted innocently. “My hands were shaking. I needed something to eat.”

“Ah, that is quite important for a medic, isn’t it? Steady hands?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ardyn looked to Noctis and smiled. “In my day, we used magic like the gods gave us.”

“Bullshit,” Noctis snapped, hoarse and tired of his nonsense. “Magic was even harder to come by back then. I know _some_ history.”

“Still feisty,” Ardyn announced with a depressed sigh.

That silenced Noctis out of confusion. That confusion grew to panic when Exorsa stepped towards Ardyn. “Please, no more. You could _kill_ him,” she begged. It was when she spoke like that that one could hear the damage done to her throat still gave her problems. The way her voice cracked to the pressure.

Her reward was a blast of black and purple magic, the likes of which Noctis had never seen in his life, and it knocked her right off her feet and across the small room. She slammed into one of the racks that had been added to the torture dungeon that it was becoming, and Noctis sneered at Ardyn.

His rage was short-lived.

With a simple swipe of his hand above Noctis’s head, the prince’s hands dropped from their hook, but were still together via handcuffs that had long since bit into his skin, wearing away at him to a point he swore he saw bone. The triquetrum bone? Triquetral…?

He wondered if he was going insane, thinking about what the name of the bone was when he was falling for the floor, and instead right in the arms of his captor. His thoughts were all jumbled. Nothing was working right. It was probably the sleep deprivation and starvation. They hydrated him plenty.

Something that was proven in an ironic twist involving Ardyn’s soldiers sweeping in to take Noctis from Ardyn. The male of the two was hardly gentle as he picked him up by the jaw, and slammed him into a bench that had been used previously as a seat for Ardyn during one of his Great Lectures.

The impact hurt so bad. It felt like the skin of his back was ripping, tearing open, and it was. Wounds he couldn’t remember getting, delivered by the belt, that Exorsa had taken great care to stitch and glue. They ripped open and bled freely onto the bench, but that wasn’t important right then. Neither was the blistering pain of old wounds and permanent damage that spanned from his back to his knee.

What mattered was that the soldiers were restraining him at the hands and feet. Once again, his hands were thrown over his head, though mercifully they were resting on the bench as well. His legs, on the other hand, were dropped to either side and stretched down towards the supporting bar of the long bench, where they were so tight, he would have been pulled in that direction if not for his hands being bound.

A look around as he fought against the binds told him everything he needed to know: The man was handing Ardyn a hand towel, and the woman was approaching with a bucket, sloshing over the sides with water.

Noctis would have begged if he could, but he couldn’t. He was a _king_. Kings didn’t _beg_.

Yet another reason he wished he didn’t have to…

“See you in about thirty minutes or so,” Ardyn chuckled as he delicately smoothed the towel over Noctis’s face. That was just as well, simply because Noctis knew exactly what was coming.

Water, water that wouldn’t ever touch his tongue, but would suffocate him regardless. The sounds of the room drowned out by the sound of the bucket’s haul pouring over the towel and turning it into an airless bubble, making him drown without ever being submerged.

**

Noctis didn’t remember the conversations he heard between buckets, of which there were three; one to pour, one to refill, one to be on standby until the first was passed off to become the second. He didn’t remember the soldiers lamenting about how they had to use buckets, or how Ardyn told them they would never get a hose, because he didn’t trust them to not actually kill Noctis.

He didn’t remember that. He barely remembered his walk from the harbor to Maagho. What was wrong with him?

By the time he came out of the blackout, there were flashes of something that told him the shower was a bad idea, but he _needed_ to shower. He _needed_ to stick to the agenda.

What agenda?

He was standing in the middle of the bedroom hen he finally leveled out. The sun had long since fallen. He must have responded to life checks, because many hours had rolled by at that point, and yet no one was there.

He looked down at himself, and realized he’d just been standing there, naked. Great. Quickly, he rushed to the bed and held out his hand, a duffel bag of clothing dropping onto the mattress. He could distinctly remember when he packed that. Or, rather, when Ignis packed it for him.

Realizing there was still a tangible memory in his mind, Noctis froze, trying to push to that memory, to fight his way into clutching every single second of it, to never let it go.

**

“Whatever will you tell Lady Lunafreya when she sees her betrothed carrying… _this_ for his clothes?” Ignis scoffed the night before Noctis’s departure.

Noctis paused from the game he was playing on his phone to look at the duffel bag he’d tossed unceremoniously to his bed at the Citadel when Ignis started asking what clothes Noctis wanted to take with him. “I’ll tell her I had no time to unpack my apartment’s shit.” He looked around at all the boxes in his room, carried by him and his friends to his room at the Citadel.

Ignis gave the flattest of looks to Noctis, which was pretty funny, given he had a clothes hanger in each hand, each sporting different shirts from which Noctis was supposed to choose. Of course, Noctis didn’t laugh. He just turned back to his game.

“I want you to know how _uncouth_ it is, and if she rejects the betrothal and lets the Empire finish us off over your duffel bag, it’s entirely your fault.”

“ _Ha_.”

“Relax, Iggy,” Gladio remarked from where he was hauling out heavier items from the many boxes, to carry to the places that suited them best.

He’d tried to get Noctis’s opinion on locations earlier, but got a passive, “Do I look like an interior designer to you? Put ‘em wherever.”

“It’s practical, especially when you’re traveling alone.”

“As though _any_ of us know what it’s like to ‘travel’, aside from the outer city,” Ignis grumbled.

“Hey.” Gladio’s beckon had Ignis looking at him, all while plucking the shirt he felt looked the best from its hanger and taking to folding it. “I know the kid’s an asshole and an idiot—”

“The hell!” Noctis objected, throwing up his hands. “I’m right here!”

“—but acting this way over him leaving the nest is just going to earn you wrinkles, and I hear Botox is expensive.”

Prompto snorted so hard it visibly hurt him, he tried so hard not to laugh.

The look on Ignis’s face had Noctis taking a step back. And then another. And another, right up until he was seated on the floor next to Prompto. “What’s wrong?” Prompto whispered.

Noctis put his finger to his lips, fixated on what was about to happen. “Mommy’s gonna hit daddy,” he joked in a returned whisper.

Prompto’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. He’d heard fables from Noctis about these moments, but had yet to see the great Gladiolus V. Ignis battles firsthand.

“As his Shield, you should be taking his decision to embark on this journey alone with at least an _air_ of seriousness.”

“Oh, we’re gonna do this, are we?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Fine.” Gladio gestured. “How about not in front of the kids?”

Ignis glowered down at the shirt in his hands, first folding it to perfection and putting it into the bag as carefully as the bag’s shape would allow. He then stormed from the side of the bed, out to the hall, and followed by Gladio, who pulled the door shut behind him.

“Whoa, they embrace that shit, don’t they?” Prompto asked wondrously.

“Not intentionally.” Noctis crawled rapidly for the double doors that acted as the entry to his room, and pressed his ear against the thick, dark wood. Prompto quickly joined him. There was nothing to be heard of any clarity at the moment, which meant they hadn’t started to yell. Noctis took the time to look at Prompto. “It’s just how their personalities kinda… mesh,” he explained quietly. “Gladio’s always been rough-n-tumble, authoritative and stuff. Iggy’s always been more reserved and more cautious. Gladio’s loud and bombastic—”

“Whoa, lookit you, using princely words~”

“—Iggy’s quiet and respectful. Most the time. So yeah. This is how it goes.” After that explanation, Prompto squinted his eyes in curiosity. “…what?” Noctis asked.

“…is this a homo or no homo situation?” Prompto threw up his hands as soon as he asked it. “Not that it matters! I just need to know if they have anniversaries and stuff while you’re gone!”

“Gladio’s an impenetrable, unbendable steel bar of straight… steel,” Noctis explained, squinting his own eye over the stumble. “Jury’s still out on Iggy. I think he’s sexually attracted to laundry detergent and cooking.”

“Dude,” Prompto sputtered, snickering. “He probably says the same thing about you and the concept of sleeping.”

“Sleeping never talks back,” Noctis replied.

Except that his sleeping actually often did, in the form of something small and green and cute.

**

Remembering the Carbuncle snapped the memory like a twig right then and there. Sleeping sounded so good right then… so why didn’t he actually feel tired?

He started to pull on his spare clothes from his duffel bag, his body still so sore that even pulling on the over-sized shirt (it wasn’t too big, but compared to how it used to fit…) wracked over him like every fiber in his skin was on fire. Maybe he should have tried to look at himself in the mirror… but it didn’t seem like that made sense in the moment. He likely just slept awkwardly on the way there. Aranea flew him in, right?

Flinching, the prince put a hand to his head. He needed to eat something. Nothing made sense since before he arrived in Altissia and for the first time since then, he felt the pangs of hunger in his stomach.

He started over for the door. Ignis could cook him something. If Ignis wasn’t there, he could just dig around for something, as he knew they wouldn’t have settled in there without grocery shopping. Especially with women traveling with them. Even if those women could kick more ass than they could, Gladio, Ignis and Prompto wouldn’t forget their knack for chivalry.

“He said he was fine when I went in to see what he was doing,” a muted voice said from the other side of the door. It was Gladio. Why was he right there on the other side? Was he guarding the door?

“What, has he just been standing in the shower this whole time?” Iris asked, her tone dripping with worry.

“I dunno. I assume he took a nap. Like Iggy said, Noct doesn’t really spend a lot of time in the bath. He does what he has to and then spends fifteen hours on his hair.”

Noctis reached up and patted at his hair, which was laying flat because he hadn’t even bothered to style it. It wasn’t that it looked bad down, but it was Ignis who had suggested to start wearing it up for his combat training. After high school, it just became an everyday thing. He was guessing that was why Prompto and Ignis were styling their hair up, too. It stayed out of the way.

“Could you _please_ go check on him again, Gladdy?” Iris begged. “We’re worried about him.”

“Maybe it’d be better to let the kid stay in there if he wants to stay in there.” Aranea. Her voice progressively grew louder, indicating her approach to the Amicitia siblings.

“Why’s that? Kid’s gotta eat,” Gladiolus argued.

“By all your accounts, he’s stubborn as hell. You force him out, and expect him to comply with eating? Let him come out in his own time.”

Gladio let out a displeased sound. “I’ll give him an hour. He better decide to come out by then. It’ll get loud in here if he doesn’t.”

That was not going to fly. Noctis wasn’t about that. He didn’t want a fight. ~~He wanted to be safe.~~ He wanted to just rest before his ‘big day’. If he couldn’t have that, what was the point in being there?

He looked off to the side opposite of the bathroom door, which held a private balcony for his room. If someone was outside on the main balcony, they’d see him, but if they weren’t…

Pulling his phone out, he went to the balcony’s door and dropped down low after unlatching it and sliding it open just a small bit. By throwing on the front-facing camera and slowly sticking his phone out there, it allowed him to see if anything was going on on the other patio. It was a trick he’d used more than once to escape needy girls at school and while shopping.

Prompto was on the balcony, leaning back on the railing and talking into the open doors. While Noctis couldn’t hear his words, whatever the conversation was, it seemed light. Prompto was animated as always, even though there was a sadness in his eyes that Noctis hadn’t seen outside of one time, and that was when Prompto admitted to him that he’d seen his parents maybe twenty times in the last two years, collectively. It was a sad tale he offered when they were sixteen. Specifically, Prompto had just turned sixteen.

“Sometimes it’s just her, or just him. Sometimes it’s both. It’s nice when they’re there, at least,” he had said soberly over the blown out candles of his cake. Noctis remembered thinking about how that must’ve been his drive to be likable to everyone.

He wished he could hear what Prompto was saying then. He must’ve been talking to Ignis. Was it about Noctis himself?

The thought was overbearing. He didn’t want to go out there, but if he locked the bedroom door, Gladio would eventually kick it in. He couldn’t do that right then.

So, he waited. He waited for Prompto to finally straighten and head back inside. There was a very real possibility that they were monitoring his balcony for an escape. If that was true, Noctis needed to run.

He threw the balcony door open, scrambling out into a crawl that turned to a run once he was on his feet, and didn’t think twice about leaping off the balcony and warping off for another rooftop. There was no time to waste when he landed there, either. Warping made noise and left a trail for a few seconds. A glance back, and he saw Ignis running onto the main balcony, a split second before Noctis warped off for an alleyway. His stream from the warp would clue the steward into what was happening, but they’d lose track of him after that. He jetted out too far for them to catch up easily, which was good, because Noctis pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and had to actively avoid tears and a sob.

Something was fundamentally broken inside of him. There was no reason to run from friends and allies, and yet he couldn’t imagine anything but. His body hurt and his brain was all wrong. He had no real anchors. He felt as though he’d been away from his friends for _years_.

Years he couldn’t even remember.


	18. And behold, there come two woes more thereafter...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsure of how he got there, Noctis doesn't question his appearing at the First Secretary's home earlier than he's supposed to arrive, because being there means a chance to see Lunafreya for the first time in twelve years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light descriptions of child abuse here, with insinuations that can be taken as the reader would like.

After a steadying breath, Noctis had started to walk. He wasn’t sure where he was going, and he barely recalled the conversations he had with city guard, asking for directions. It wasn’t a black out, but more his brain was in so many places at once, that he just was running on auto-pilot. At times, it felt as though he was watching himself as an outside observer, dissociated from his body and its actions.

It was only when he found himself standing in some sort of small garden, wedged between a tall wall and a massive building, that he really started to pay attention to the world again, and tried to take inventory of what led him there. He didn’t even realize that it was saying a lot about his mental state that those moments, those blackouts and dissociative incidents, had become so normal he barely worried, and just tried to compensate, when he should have been _incredibly_ worried.

Standing there, he could recall asking several city guard about the location of the First Secretary’s home. He could recall stalking around, outside the wall, watching the windows that were even higher than it. Again, it was a distanced set of memories, as though he was recalling a scene from a movie. It was so surreal, and—

…right.

He was looking for Luna.

There was no sight of her, but he did see an open window up high. Maybe he could get in and find her without being caught? It was worth a shot. Camelia had to expect him to not just lie back and accept that Lunafreya was there without seeing her.

So, up he warped, grabbing hold of a wrought iron planter casing that was bracketed below the window. It gave him the chance to lift up and look inside—only to drop down again and squirm to get a foothold on the awning of the window just below it so he didn’t aggravate his already strained body further.

Inside, Camelia Claustra sat, with Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret seated across from her. In the brief glimpse he had, Luna looked exactly as he’d imagined. It’d been years since he saw her. She was sixteen when she coronated as the Oracle, which had been broadcast live on TV and the internet, and he remembered watching it from school. A lot of questions had come his way about her, since it was generally known that after his near-death, he traveled to Tenebrae to visit her mother, but he had no answers he was willing to give.

She was older then, but she was still… gorgeous. He chanced a slow peek up and in by straightening his legs. The fact that his body was screaming in agony wasn’t important. He wanted another look, in case he was caught.

Luna wore a serious expression that didn’t crease her face at all. It wasn’t a scowl, but a somber expression, as she listened to Camelia speak.

“I’ll be meeting with him tomorrow in the afternoon. I hope you understand that I’ll have to keep the two of you apart if we want him to answer the way he needs to.”

“I understand,” Luna replied with a slow nod of her head.

“My goal is as follows: Agree to help you conduct the rite to wake Leviathan, in exchange for the help of his people in evacuations. I will make it known that failure to agree to such terms will result in my handing you over to the Empire. While I understand who and what he is, and what the purpose of the rite will serve, I’m not in the business of sacrificing my people just so you can wake a god that’s powerless against the daemons without him.”

“Of course,” Luna replied again, her tone and expression equally grim. “I’ve no doubt that Noctis will seek to meet you on your terms.”

“Should he do so… well, I certainly hope your marriage is a happy one.”

When Camelia rose from her seat, Noctis dipped down again and closed his eyes. So, the woman intended to use Luna as some sort of bargaining chip…

…honestly, the terms weren’t unfair. The only reason Altissia was involved at all was because Leviathan was asleep underneath the water city. If she was telling Luna the truth, then Noctis wouldn’t have a problem accepting. The big question was: _Was_ she telling the truth?

The door closed within, and Noctis peeked up over the window sill again. Luna was alone, and she slowly leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders lurched forward as a quiet sob escaped her.

Noctis didn’t need see more to want to get in to her. Thank God, thank the Astrals, no one had seen him. Or, at least, no one who cared. The pain in his body took a back burner to his focus on her. The need of reunion.

He spent so long talking to Lunafreya through Umbra’s notebook and longing to hear her voice. While it started as friendship, as pen pals at a distance after his father fled with him during their visit, as he got older and… hit puberty, he supposed, the connection grew stronger, and his talking about her grew quieter until he simply stopped talking about it at all. For Noctis, his relationships were something he liked to keep private. It was why it took a year before he introduced Prompto to Ignis, and a bit longer to Gladio. It wasn’t because of some jealousy. He just felt overwhelmed with the idea of having to share his feelings like that among multiple people, especially when he acted so different with everyone.

With Luna, his love for her was quiet but firm. That notebook became everything, with her appearances on video being the only way he could put her voice to what she wrote. It pained him through the years to know she didn’t have a clue what his voice sounded like as he matured, but not as much as it pained him that he couldn’t see her. Still, that pain was private. That pain was his and his alone, not to be voiced to anyone but her the day they could be together.

He was different with everyone.

With Prompto, he had fun. They ran around, had good laughs, and he was able to forget his true life around him. Prompto didn’t expect a prince at any point in time. He just wanted Noctis.

With Gladiolus, he trained hard and had what amounted to very healthy disputes. They got along, they went drinking when he was old enough, but they would also fight. They’d hit low with their words, and then spar. With Gladio, he acted more like a soldier with another soldier. A bad soldier, he’d readily admit, but Gladio allowed him to have a terrible sense of humor and also be a little shit, and he didn’t take it personally.

With Ignis, his relationship with him experienced the largest adjustments. He’d known him the longest on a personal level, and Ignis was there to watch cartoons with him as children. He was there when Noctis was nearly killed and his personality darkened and his tongue became sharper. Ignis was difficult for Noctis to understand as he entered puberty, and vice versa, and because Ignis felt obligated to roll with his punches, was often unfairly placed at the receiving end of his anger. Ignis was a soft target to an emotional teenager. As he got older, Ignis became the person he relied on the most, like he was supposed to, and he stopped throwing barbed words at him when he was possibly the least deserving of anyone the prince knew. They were still sober in their conversations, but Ignis knew more about Noctis than anyone, and Noctis enjoyed his company, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious.

Combining all three of those was more than a little daunting. He actually had severe anxiety when Ignis and Gladio started to work together so they could better care for him years ago. It made him more hostile as a result, and Gladio beat it out of him in training, while Ignis simply stood and took it.

When he finally started to introduce Prompto, he did so with a dry throat and a knot in his stomach that he played off with his usual, dismissive attitude.

Noctis hadn’t actually expected Gladio or Ignis to be that warm with Prompto, because he was so different from both of them, but they found common ground with him. Prompto liked to work out, so Gladio got to know him with that. Prompto was, for all his faults, insanely tidy and responsible (he had to be responsible, given he was a latchkey kid), and Ignis respected that immensely.

And then there was Luna, who he hadn’t mentioned once since he was thirteen. Ignis and Gladio knew he still spoke to her, with Umbra’s frequent visits, and the occasional drop-in by Gentiana, but Noctis didn’t talk about the pressed flowers she would send him, and her desire to hear all about his days between the last time he wrote to her to then. Her unwillingness to talk much about her own life, unless it was about small, wonderful encounters with the people that she went out to meet and to heal.

They didn’t know how his responses progressively turned more affectionate to her. How it didn’t matter that he wasn’t right there with her through the years, that he didn’t need that to start feeling ‘in love’ with her.

And, if he had it his way, they wouldn’t know of him crawling through the window to get to her, to console her, to speak with her.

Luna didn’t hear him enter, the sound of her quiet sobs clearly deafening to her own ears, and she only learned he was there when he tenderly touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He expected her to start, to jolt away from fear. However, she instinctively somehow realized not to be afraid.

Her eyes were red and wide when she looked up to him. “…do my eyes deceive me…?” she asked, slow and soft.

She sounded so tired…

“No,” he replied, speaking quietly. “I’m really here.”

Luna covered her mouth to suppress another sob, before reaching up for him. “I didn’t expect… I didn’t…”

“Shh.” Noctis took her hands and moved around in front of her, lowering to his knees. “I know it’s dangerous for me to be here, but I… I had… to come see you, Luna.”

“Oh, Noctis.” She pulled one hand free and reached out to gently run her fingers over his lips. “She’s not that dangerous.” She knew Noctis’s worries without even hearing a single word about them. “I know she’s strong-spoken, but she’s simply looking out for her own. ‘tis no different than what we do for the people who rely on us. All comes second to our own.”

“Right…” He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “Do you know how long we have?”

“My brother will be here on the morrow. The First Secretary is done with me until your meeting with her. Staff will come with food at eight tonight… so an hour from now, but ‘lest I have requests or troubles, I will be left to my own in here.” She gestured behind him, to a moving bookshelf that acted as a door to a bedroom. “I’ve all I need here, including a private bathroom.”

“So, she’s been good to you?” Noctis asked, glancing that way.

“Yes.”

Noctis was set to say more, but found himself stopping as he felt Luna’s fingers in his hair, gently combing through his raven locks. He turned back to her, looking up to watch her eyes. She looked so somber still, and yet there was a glint of happiness in her eyes.

She had to be weary from all her travels, rushing ahead of him to awaken the Astrals for his quest.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her he couldn’t remember any of it. He knew he had won over Titan and Ramuh, but he simply couldn’t remember _how_.

“Sit,” she requested, gesturing to the chair previously occupied by the First Secretary. “We’ve so much to discuss.”

Noctis nodded in agreement and pushed to his feet. He stumbled a little, earning a frown from her. “S-Sorry. Jet lagged.”

“Jet lagged? Did you not travel by boat?” Luna asked, concerned.

“No, actually.” He paused long enough to drag that chair in so, when he sat down, he was so close that his knees were touching hers. She seemed amused by the fact, judging by the small smile. “You’re not gonna believe this, but a former commodore to the Niflheim army gave me a lift. Aranea Highwind.”

Luna smiled softly at that. “Oh. I know the commodore.”

“You do?” Noctis asked, leaning in and holding his hand out to her. When Luna gave him one of hers, he promptly covered it with his other. He was watching her eyes, and she was watching his. It felt… so nice to be with her. He begged for the end of that war so he could be with her and focus on only her.

“I do,” she confirmed, reaching out to comb through his hair once more as she squeezed his hand tenderly. “You’ve grown into such a handsome man, Noctis,” she whispered.

Noctis cast his eyes downward to their hands. “You’ve always been beautiful,” he whispered. Her breathing hitched and held at that, and he awkwardly shuffled in his seat. “So, how do you know Aranea?”

“Oh…” Luna paused, looking down and seeming to weigh her options. Noctis gave her all the time she needed to resolve whatever she was thinking, and decide what she would want to say. “Well. Aranea was stationed, in the very beginning, in Tenebrae. When she was first brought on board. Things, they feared, were still unstable with the people, and they feared the Lucians making an attempt to annex it from Empirical hands, so they put Aranea and her division there…”

Noctis watched Luna as she said those words. There was real weight behind them. “…how did you meet her?”

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but lowered her eyes to their hands instead, tenderly squeezing his hand. She sniffed quietly, pulling back emotions that were threatening to break free. Watching her struck him in his heart. It was an inexplicable pain, but not one unfamiliar. He had felt it many times in the past, when receiving her letters through Umbra, when she wrote nothing but a request for him to talk about his friends, his schooling, his job. They came through as a young woman desperately trying to think of happy things, but unable to find them in her own world.

“Luna…” he said in a hushed tone. “It’s okay, you—”

“The Empire was never kind to me or to Ravus,” she started, much to his surprise. She spoke softly, and never lifted her eyes to meet his. “The soldiers stationed around our home would regularly find it entertaining to challenge our bloodright.”

“What…?” he breathed, already horrified at the implications.

“They would ‘fight’ Ravus, as grown men bullying a teenage boy would do. Push him around and mock him until he fought back, at which point they would beat him senseless and dump him with their medical teams. It was why he was so driven to enter their military and shoot through their ranks. As soon as the Niflheim emperor discovered this, it was made all the easier. The heir of Tenebrae entering the Empire’s military, aiming to command it, meant what little resistance remained in Tenebrae itself would die out. The minute Ravus was in charge, he demanded many executions for what they did to us as children.”

Noctis was feeling sick. Ravus was terrible, but it was making a lot of sense suddenly as to why.

And Luna…

“With me, they would come and ask if I was to be the next Oracle. No answer was correct. They simply wanted a reason to… strike me. To…” She bit on her lower lip, and Noctis hunched over a little, feeling as though someone had punched him directly in the gut. Luna didn’t have to say the words for him to realize it went beyond a simple slap.

He remained silent, allowing Luna to continue after she took a deep breath.

“One night, a soldier came for me. I was thirteen. He’d thrown me about. I was terrified. He came up on me, ready to backhand me in his metal gauntlets. I’d been struck like that before, and cowered and covered my head in the hopes I could diminish the injuries of that grated metal hitting me… but that time, the blow never came.

“Out of nowhere, there she was, catching his arm and throwing him away from me.”

“Aranea?”

“Yes.” Luna lifted her eyes finally, to look Noctis in his. “’Stand down,’ she ordered. I remember it clear as day. ‘Stand down. If I see any of you hurting this child again, you’ll be getting hit by someone a hundred times better than you in return.’ He did so, leaving the room. She turned, helping me to my feet. She helped contact my retainers to bring me food and drink. She sat with me, ensuring I wasn’t too badly injured, and she told me stories of the world for several hours as I calmed and grew tired.

“It was… the first time I had experienced kindness at the hands of the Empire.” As she said those words, her eyes began to sparkle, turning glassy with tears brimming but not yet falling. “She was even there the day I was initiated as Oracle. Standing in the back of the crowd, and only approaching once there was an opening, well after it.

“‘Farewell to chapters passed, for the future has come,’ she said. I asked her where that saying was from. She gave no answer, and instead leaned in to me and said, ‘You’re weak now, but one day, you’ll be strong. Hang in there.’ Rough around the edges as she might be, but her way of speaking… you just believe every word.” She paused, and then gave a tired laugh. “I’m sorry. That was more depressing than it should have been.”

“It’s okay,” Noctis said quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. He really had read those notes, those requests, correctly. God. What sort of future-would-be-husband was he? “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry that I never came for you.”

“How could you have?” Luna asked softly. She reached out after reclaiming her hand, to cup his tired face in both of her hands. “You may be a man now, but you’re four years younger, Noctis. When I was thirteen, you were nine. When I was sixteen, you were twelve, for example. You were still learning how to warp at that age, were you not?”

“I… you remember?”

“Of course I do. I remember every single thing you ever wrote to me.”

Noctis swore his heart snapped in that moment. God, even though he practically heard the sadness in her written requests, he’d go on for pages to her about whatever she wanted to know, talking about his normal life in his normal city, with his normal friends, in his normal home.

‘Normal’ was relative, of course, when one was a prince, but… she was technically a princess. So his normal was what should have been normal for her.

It felt so heartless. Regardless of whether he was writing as a friend when he was too young to think of her as anything but, or when he got older and started to feel a flutter in his chest when Umbra would arrive, wasn’t it like he was torturing her with his tales of running around with Prompto, of his bar crawls with Gladio, of his games of strategy and long drives with Ignis?

“I loved every time Umbra returned to me,” Luna said then, as if reading his mind through his sorrowful eyes. “Your stories of your life made me smile. You’re quite the writer, you know.”

“Yeah, w-well.” Noctis slowly pulled from her hands so he could casually wipe at his eyes with his arm, to clear himself of the tears threatening to fall. “It’s all that education, you know. Public school’s great for that.”

A soft, musical laugh escaped Luna. “The tales of those who wished to have you as a suitor were among the best,” she commented, referring to the girls in his school who never left him alone. Again, it had been a case of him not caring when he was too young _to_ care, and then him being old enough to care, but wanting no one but Luna.

Noctis smirked faintly and looked to his hands, fidgeting slightly. “I… I overheard the First Secretary when she was speaking to you a bit ago.”

“So then, you heard her plans for your talk tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Seems reasonable to me.”

“Yes, to me as well.” Luna reached over and ghosted her fingers over his cheek. “If you and she agree, I’ll make a speech later in the day, and the day after, the rite to awaken Leviathan will begin.”

“And then after that, you can come with us to go to Shiva,” Noctis said; a little too quick, a little too eager.

Luna smiled, but there was a glint of sadness there once again. “Yes. I’ll be with you always,” she promised softly. There was a weight to her words that Noctis felt in his heart, but he didn’t understand it. Was it just the anxiety of years of waiting to save her from the Empire’s clutches that panged at him? Or was it something else?

Either way, for once, his mind was calm. For once in a very long time, it felt, he didn’t black out, he didn’t have flashes of things he didn’t understand. It was just the King and the Oracle, together as they were always supposed to be, and him and Lunafreya, together as he’d wanted for years.

They talked for hours, the only interruption being when he had to hide as food was brought in to her. They spoke about happier times in their lives. Of her playing various games like chess with Ravus, and occasionally Aranea. How Aranea would regularly visit to knock the soldiers in place to ensure they wouldn’t do anything with her, and that it was a good memory to Luna, because she admitted a feeling of relief in seeing those particular men having to bow and salute a woman. They spoke of Noctis in school, and at his part-time job at the sushi restaurant, of the movies that came out in Insomnia, and of Prompto, Ignis and Gladiolus.

It was so nice to have the one person who fully understood him there, to be able to hold her hands, to touch her face.

They never moved from those chairs, aside from that one interruption, until it was time to take his leave. For him, he didn’t want to let on to the pain wracking his body, hoping to not draw attention to it. It was getting worse, so he needed to leave. Luna needed her strength for the coming days. For the speech, for the rite, and he didn’t want her wasting her healing light on him, even though she was said to have unlimited amounts of it. For all he knew, it was the same as his powers: exhausting, sometimes to the point of making him sick.

What he didn’t know was that, for her, it was the same. That her body was breaking down from the rites, and she could barely walk on her own unless she was trying to posture for a crowd. He didn’t realize that the only reason she didn’t take notice to his weight, his exhaustion, was because she too wasn’t in her right, healthy mind.

He had no idea, and it was going to break him when he discovered the truth, especially on the back of things to come.


	19. And the Sixth Angel Sounded...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four directives down, three to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: As you can probably tell, I have no idea what I’m doing with my life and have lost all control.

After leaving Luna’s side, the confusion of Noctis’s mind began again. She was such a safe, peaceful respite from the agony of his body and brain. He wished they could just run away together and let the world rot, but that was ridiculous. They couldn’t condemn the world like that, could they? Most people didn’t know how to fight. They fought in their own ways, with trying to survive in places such as most of Lucis and elsewhere, but they didn’t know how to wield a sword or properly shoot a gun.

…okay, so, most Lucians out around the country probably knew how to fire a gun, but guns weren’t always effective. They were tough people, unwilling to pack up and leave for Insomnia, and… well, Noctis was sure they were grateful at that point for making such a choice.

When he returned for the hotel suite, he warped to the primary balcony. Honestly, he expected all of them to be waiting there, pissed off at him running away and being impossible to find. It was late, already in the very touches of morning twilight, and his mind was whirling with painful flashes of things he didn’t fully understand.

Who would be in there as allies? Prompto and Iris? Prompto would be sleepy, as would Iris, so they’d be there, and…

To his surprise, the only person there was Iris, sleeping on the couch of the communal room, her phone tightly grasped in her hand. He realized then that the rest likely left to look for him while she stayed there, in the event that he returned before they could find him.

Sighing quietly, he walked over and rested his hand on her arm, shaking her gently. “Iris,” he said, trying to beckon her awake.

To what shouldn’t have been his surprise, she awoke with a start, swinging that arm up to hit whatever she felt touching her. Striking him right in one of his sore shoulders, he grunted in pain and stumbled back, tripping against the coffee table and dropping clumsily onto it, mercifully sitting when he landed.

“Oh—Oh God, Noct, I’m sorry!” she stammered as she swung up to sit as well, right in front of him. “Did I hurt you?!”

The question was as much of surprise as it was worry. She wasn’t exactly the strongest girl, but she wasn’t the weakest, either. She was an Amicitia, after all. If something ever happened to Gladio, if there was no one to take his place as Shield, she was the next in line. She hadn’t had extensive combat training, but he had no doubt that in the wake of Insomnia’s fall and her traveling with Gladio and the others, she was getting crash courses.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

She frowned and leaned forward a little, studying his face. Although he wasn’t sure why, he flinched at her doing so and looked away for the moment. “…they’re really upset with you, you know,” she commented.

“I know.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I had something I had to do.”

Iris frowned a little as she watched Noctis’s face in silence. It didn’t take her long before she looked at her phone, folded in her hands and on her lap, and asked, “…did you go to find Lady Lunafreya?”

That was an odd reaction, Noctis thought because, even on a good day, he was an idiot.

“Yeah.”

“Did you actually find her…? I-Is she alright?”

“She’s preparing for the rite to raise Leviathan. She gave me tips on how to handle the First Secretary later today. I’ll be getting ready soon,” Noctis listed off, looking at Iris.

Well, not really at her, but more through her. His eyes felt like they couldn’t focus. Was he just tired?

His body hurt.

His head hurt.

The world blurred.

He didn’t remember the yelling when the others arrived, beyond a shadow of a memory. He didn’t recall the way they were taken aback with how he just stood there and took it with no emotion, and perhaps no understanding, to what they were saying. The fact that after, he insisted on going to the meeting with the First Secretary. The fact that Ignis gently guided him off to ready him for the affair, or that he immediately shoved Ignis out when it meant helping him change clothes. The look of hurt on his good friend and steward’s face at being rejected like that. The walk to the house in which Luna was tucked away. All if it, he couldn’t recall beyond that feeling in the pit of his stomach that screamed more of a memory locked behind a wall, screaming to be let out.

What was happening to him?

And why couldn’t he bring himself to tell anyone?

 

———

 

“You’re a lot thinner than I imagined,” Camelia Claustra remarked as she passed Noctis by, so she could have a seat at her desk.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Noctis replied as he watched her. He did a good job in acting like the swirling tornado that was his understanding of the world around him hadn’t just cleared up a second before the First Secretary engaged him.

“Tell me, why do you come here to Altissia? The wedding isn’t going to happen now.”

‘You know very well why,’ he wanted to snap. Instead, he replied, “Lady Lunafreya is assisting in raising the Astrals to help me fight. Leviathan’s the next on the list.”

“The Tidemother is said to not take kindly to interruptions.”

“I realize this might cause a lot of damage to Altissia, but surely the fact that it’ll lead to saving the world will make up for it?”

“Perhaps. But, frankly, I’m only worried about my people,” Camelia said, admirably blunt. “I need to be assured of their safety above all else.”

“Fine,” Noctis said, folding his arms over his chest. Something popped quietly in that action, somewhere between his right shoulder and its blade. Warm pain spread over him, but he remained still and convincingly fine. “What do you want?”

“Only you need to be at the altar,” she stated. “I know you have a decent sized party with you. I want them to assist in evacuations. Leviathan’s awakening will tear Altissia apart. If your people help with the evacuations while you are at the altar and dealing with Leviathan, I will be more than happy to allow this to happen. If you disagree with these terms, know that the Empire already has forces in the city, and I will gladly hand over the Oracle to them, and tell them your location. I don’t care for anything but the people of Accordo.”

“Of which we’re not.”

Camelia shrugged and watched Noctis expectantly.

“Fine,” Noctis said with a sigh. “My people will help with evacuations. I’ll be the only one at the altar with Lunafreya. There might still be casualties, but my people will do everything they can to mitigate the loss.”

“Very good.” Camelia stood then, to walk around the desk and stand in front of Noctis. “Understand, I understand your purpose in all of this, just as I understand hers. Hold true to your word, and you will have the full support of me and mine.”

She held her hand out for a shake, and Noctis took her up on the offer, still impressively hiding the aches and pains even in his hand. “When do we start?” he asked with a nod of his head in appreciation.

“The Oracle will give a speech in an hour to the people, wherein she will tell them what is about to happen. Originally, we planned to have the rite be conducted tomorrow. However, we’ve received report that Niflheim reinforcements are closing in and should be here soon. Likely to try to slay Leviathan as they did Titan. So we need to beat them to the punch to give you enough time. It’ll be just by a hair, if their progress remains steady, but you’ll likely be required to fight the Tidemother to show your worth. That chaos on its own will keep them at bay.”

“Right… Well. Thank you,” Noctis said amicably.

If Camelia said anything in exchange from that point forward, Noctis didn’t hear it. The agreement was made.

His job was done with regards to the First Secretary.

_“Meet with the others, meet with the First Secretary, listen to the Oracle’s address, garner support of the others, meet with the Oracle, sleep, fight the Tidemother, await further orders.”_

_…_

_“ ~~Meet with the others~~ , ~~meet with the First Secretary~~ , listen to the Oracle’s address, ~~garner support of the others~~ , ~~meet with the Oracle, sleep~~ , fight the Tidemother, await further orders.”_

Three more to go.


	20. Loose the four which are bound in the great river...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head in Altissia, when Lady Lunafreya is due to make her plea to Leviathan for help. Things become known that weren't known previously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever seen the Omen Trailer, you will likely get this, even though I took massive liberties (as if I haven't already).
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Torture, sexual assault threats but no sexual assault, brainwashing, major character death.

Luna was beautiful as always.

Noctis could remember watching the day she was confirmed as the Oracle; the youngest Oracle ever, no less. It was the first time he saw her since he was eight, and she was beautiful then, just as she was as she walked to the pedestal from which she would make her speech.

For many, many years, they spent simply writing to one another through her dog, Umbra. They built a relationship no one would understand, so Noctis never tried to explain it. People seemed to accept online relationships even more than the idea of handwriting letters. He supposed the instantaneous contact that internet relationships provided was better understood because it could move rapidly like a mouth-to-mouth conversation, but… Noctis preferred the way he and Luna got to know one another.

Even if all he ever wanted to do was to save her from the Empire, he treasured the relationship, the love, they built through the years in writing. She was beautiful inside and out. She was so strong, and smart, and she was funny. She was actually really, really funny.

But there was no humor in her eyes that day, as she began her speech to the masses that grouped all around where she spoke. Even in her public speaking, she was perfect.

Noctis would never say it… but he really did want to marry her.

As she spoke though, Noctis found himself distracted. In the crowd, a small white form emerged, winding and curling around the leg of onlookers, as it approached him. With fluffy white hair and big, understanding eyes, Luna’s other dog, Pryna, emerged and trotted over to sit by the prince.

He stooped down to gently rub her ears. “What’re you doing here, Pryna?” he asked quietly. There were a few people staring at the two oddly, but he paid them no mind.

After nuzzling his hands gently, Pryna backed up and looked at him expectantly.

“What, you want me to follow you? Right now? Can’t it wait?” he asked quietly.

The fluffy dog let out a quiet ‘woof’, its front paws lifting off the ground when it did so, as if to say, ‘No, you need to come with me right now.’

Noctis took a deep breath and started after Pryna, glancing up at Luna as he went, and finding her offering him the smallest but most sincere smile. She was so beautiful in every way imaginable.

Pryna seemed to run on forever. She was so fast, and Noctis did his best to stay close to her, but as they reached a bridge that seemed to lead to the very altar that he would need to meet Lunafreya on, the world gave way from under his feet and he descended into darkness with Pryna falling just ahead of him.

As darkness engulfed them both, terror was beginning to strike, until he realized it wasn’t darkness overtaking them, but his own body falling into unconsciousness.

 

——

 

The prince had never screamed so loud and desperately in his entire life.

How could something so small, so simple, be so painful?

As Ardyn watched on with a sadistic smile on his face, the soldiers made good use of Noctis’s bound position—hands over head, toes barely able to touch the ground to support him—to try new things. The female breathed as much in his ear, through her helmet, as she picked up what appeared to be some sort of small, square lid made of aluminum or some other cheek, but sturdy, metal.

Placing it against his flank, just below his left armpit, she pushed in hard and began to drag the metal down his ribs. It was something Noctis had read about briefly during history class, but outside of scrunching his nose at the practice, he didn’t think about it twice. He was then though.

It was called rib scraping. Applying extreme pleasure with a narrow and straight object against the side of the rib cage, and dragging it downwards, caused a crushing of all protective tissue—skin, tendons, muscles, fat, nerves—and bruising through to the very bone if one was strong enough.

The pain was so bad, Noctis would have taken any of the other acts up until that point. He could feel the ripples as the tissues broke underneath the dragging pressure, and he swore his ribs actually shifted around because of the strength she had. He screamed, and then couldn’t breathe.

No, he could breathe. He could, but it hurt so much, he couldn’t.

“Are you ready for Costlemark Tower yet, Noct?” Ardyn asked when the bloodless brutality ended.

Noctis couldn’t breathe, so he did the only thing he had left, and that was to spit at Ardyn before falling into wheezing.

Ardyn watched the spit hit his lapel and he snorted. “Rude,” he commented. “Here I am, attempting to prepare you for your duty as the Chosen King, and you lack even the simple dignity of holding a conversation.”

He crossed over from the door and grabbed at Noctis, doing so by grasping his lower jaw and pulling his mouth open, and then sticking his index and middle finger in to secure his tongue along with his jaw. Noctis felt like he was suffocating, and he was panicking.

That panicked spiked when Ardyn grabbed at his belt and gave it a shake, effectively jarring Noctis’s wounds. “You know, in times of war, it’s not unheard of for an enemy to pillage the body of the other side’s captives. Particularly when it’s a captive like you.” His hand plucked out the secured extra length of the belt from its loop.

Everything about it was so horrifying, it actually shook the air back into Noctis. “St-Stop—” he wheezed, the word carrying a lisp thanks to Ardyn’s compression of his tongue.

“What? Don’t like the idea of it?” Ardyn leaned in to Noctis’s ear. “Do you think Lucis is free of such a sin? On the contrary… Lucis is just as bad as anyone else. They just wear a prettier face, so they hide it better.” He undid the buckle of Noctis’s belt. “Who knows? You might even like it.”

He paused, then added in the most casual and humored tone, “Or you might die from it. I suppose it depends on what we do to you.”

Noctis tried to speak, but that time it came out inaudible. Ardyn released his jaw and tongue, curious as to what he had to say. “Go on, then,” he said, ripping Noctis’s belt clean off and grabbing at the waist-line of his pants.

“I’ll—I’m ready for—for Costlemark,” Noctis panted out, pleading in his mind for Ardyn to not go that step. It wasn’t necessary. He’d do what Ardyn wanted. He looked the man in the eyes as he said it, managing to look as though he wasn’t as terrified about that as he was.

“For the record, you’re not my type,” Ardyn relented with a chuckle, pushing away from the prince and turning on a heel. “You are his, however~” He pointed at the male soldier as he started for the exit. “We’ll set route for Costlemark right away. Cut him down and allow our Glaive to prepare him.”

When he exited into the hall, he walked to where Exorsa was seated, her one hand up in the air where it was locked by the handcuffs chosen for her. Ardyn released the cuffs as he watched her carefully. “He may have plenty of water. No food.”

“I understand,” Exo said softly and hoarsely, her eyes falling to the floor and pulling her knees to her chest until she would be needed. She _looked_ like a soldier being forced to betray her country; like she was ready to faint, or vomit, at any moment.

Noctis watched her pitifully. She didn’t deserve what was happening. The Kingsglaive betrayed him and his father, but not _all_ of them did. She nearly died because of her loyalty, only to have herself turned into a slave for the Chancellor of Niflheim.

That train of thought didn’t last long as the soldiers cut his hands loose from their binds, and he collapsed for the floor, and into darkness. Falling, endless darkness.

 

——

 

When he hit the ground, Noctis rolled to combat the jarring of his body, and sprang up to his feet. Pryna was beside him, barking loudly and aggressively through torrential rain and distant, crashing waves. It was cold, but his body was hot, and he didn’t understand why until a stream of fire burst out from the side, narrowly missing them both.

He stumbled backwards, calling out, “Pryna!” to get her to come with him. She dutifully sprang around behind him, and he looked to the source of the attack.

Standing in the shadows of night and storm, but lit by the many lightning strikes and explosions all around them, was a monster he’d only heard about in tales from the Astral War. A Messenger of Destruction, serving at the feet of Ifrit:

Cerberus.

But more than that, there was a form standing in front of the three-headed, massive, dog-like creature. Slight and feminine, as it approached by floating above the stone he stood upon, he felt a sense of dread, and as if his peripheral vision was filling up with glimpses of daemons and monsters unlike which he had ever seen or studied about in his life. They were shadows, glimpses, and if his eyes darted in that direction, he found nothing but darkness and rain, but looking away again, it was as though the feminine figure’s approach was opening his eyes to a whole different reality that hid behind a curtain.

As she closed in, the outer heads of Cerberus roared out and launched forward more fire that shot past and ignited the stone around them, arching behind Noctis and closing him in with the feminine creature.

And creature she was. Hollowed out eye sockets with white hair that floated freely from gravity and the rain, and skin like broken porcelain. In one hand, she held a rapier, and the other, an ugly, scorched-black trident, which she used to lunge down at him.

Drawing out a shield from his Armiger, he braced against the absurdly powerful attack, the collision seeming to act as a catalyst as the stone beneath him trembled. He could hear some of it falling away beyond the fire wall of their arena.

Charging in with the shield, he used it to slam the trident away, although the daemon kept hold of it and merely went with the moment of his blow, and he followed it up with slamming full force into her stomach with the shield. She screamed out, a guttural and woeful shriek, as she shot back and her feet touched the ground.

In that moment, the center head of Cerberus erupted in fire again, which shot towards her, then split to each side of her, before rejoining and blasting into Noctis. Even with the shield, his sleeves caught fire. It was clear that the fire was impenetrable by the rain, and he immediately cast the shield aside and started pawing to rip his shirt off over his head. While his mind fought him on it, as the injuries he couldn’t explain would be laid to bare then, he couldn’t afford more in the fight he was facing.

As he cast the still flaming shirt to the side, the daemon doubled over and let out another one of those painfully loud and pitiful screams. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed such a cry was mourning what she saw with him. The cuts, the bruising, the clear and calculated attacks to his body that spoke a tale he had no memory of and no wherewithal mentally to try to remember.

Pulling from his Armiger his engine blade, he ran for her again, to engage her once more. He did so while casting out a streak of crystal white in the form of a blizzard spell to throw off Cerberus so he could fight her, and hopefully win.

The fight, once he actually came to blows with her, was far easier than her appearance would have made him assume. Pryna was barking from behind him, as if encouraging him to fight with everything he had, and not to let his guard down for even one moment. Even if she was on the defensive, she expertly parried him with rapier and trident both, even with her diminished strength compared to him.

Spinning as he sliced at the arm holding that rapier, and forcing her to release it, he slammed into her and grabbed her other arm, his blade fading so he could use both hands. Twisting her arm, he threw her overhead to get her in front of him, and wrenched the trident from her as she slammed into the ground.

Pawing desperately to sit up and face him, she threw up a hand and wailed once more. Noctis heeded no mind, as he needed to rid of her and try to get free. He needed to get to the altar…

Pryna barked hard again, and Noctis spun the trident around and in position, walking quickly after the daemon as she tried to clamor backwards, desperate and panicked. _Now_ she was panicked. She shouldn’t have picked a fight with him if she didn’t want to lose.

Catching up to her, Noctis slammed the trident down into her chest hard, twisting it as he felt it strike the stone below her. She grasped desperately at the weapon, reaching up for his hands with taloned fingers. He didn’t move, because he didn’t want her possibly recovering, but it also allowed for her fingers to touch his hand.

That was when reality crept in, and the sight in front of him was too much.

There was no fire.

There was no daemon under him.

Leviathan’s body laid around what was the Altissian altar, unmoving and bleeding from a long slice from jaw to tail.

Below him, with the shimmering Trident of the Oracle piercing her body was Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.

Noctis’s jaw fell open as his eyes blurred with tears, and he stumbled from her, the trident fading from her lifeless body and shooting to him in an ethereal form, to shove itself through his chest and store itself with him. He didn’t want it, he didn’t ask for it, but it did it anyway, and he wasn’t even able to protest.

Covering his mouth with one hand, he reached out to her and started for her, but was stopped when he heard the familiar voice of Ignis calling his name.

He froze and looked over at the walkway that led to the altar. There, Ignis stood, with Ravus Nox Fleuret beside him.

“Noct—” Ignis repeated again, horrified at the condition of Noctis’s visible body.

Ravus faltered between absolute shock and blind, hot fury, and it kept him locked beside Ignis.

His first attempt to speak to Ignis ended with an uncontrollable sob that he had to cover his mouth to stop. He reached out with his other hand and stumbled towards Ignis. “Iggy—”

He didn’t get very far though, when a ballistic attack from one of the many Empirical airships overhead landed between them. Even if Ravus wanted to kill him, it wouldn’t be happening then, as the attack was so powerful, it not only blew the three men back from one another, but it cracked the already damaged platform of the altar, and the stone shattered, sending the side Noctis and Luna were upon straight down into the sea, Leviathan’s body going with them.

It was a nightmare come true, and he couldn’t even find Pryna, the only thing he had until that point, on his way down.

 

…

 

_“ ~~Meet with the others~~ , ~~meet with the First Secretary~~ , ~~listen to the Oracle’s address~~ , ~~garner support of the others~~ , ~~meet with the Oracle, sleep~~ , ~~fight the Tidemother~~ , await further orders.”_

_…_

_“Good job, lad! Your mission in Altissia is complete.”_


	21. [INTERMISSION] The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reaction to what was seen at the Tidemother's Altar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was planned at 25 chapters. It's now planned to 26, and will only bump again if I decide to do something like this once more and need it separate. Just FYI in case you think you were seeing things wrong!

“Are you _sure_?”

“I’m quite sure. That wasn’t Noct. I mean, it _was_ Noct, but it wasn’t that did it.”

Meeting at the home of Camelia Claustra, which was mostly still standing after the battle of Altissia raged and ended, the news that Ignis Scientia and Ravus Nox Fleuret brought with them was grim. Gladiolus Amicitia couldn’t believe it, and that wasn’t the first time he questioned what they saw.

While he sat beside his sister, who had her hands over her face to hide her tears, Aranea Highwind stood by Prompto Argentum, arms folded over her chest. She continued to do so when Ravus glared over to her. “Did you know of this?”

“Did _you_?” she snapped back. “You’re the commander of their armies, after all.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but didn’t get a chance to respond as Prompto stepped to Ignis. “Iggy. Please, one more time. I can’t…”

Ignis watched Prompto, who was clearly, desperately trying to find answers. “Of course,” he said, stifling a sigh. As he ran his fingers through his hair, which was soaked down from any sort of styling, he began to recount the story once more. “After we were separated on that airway, I made way for the altar. Along the way, I came across Ravus here, who had the same goal as I: Reach the altar. Him for his sister. I for Noct.

“When we reached the altar, we were greeted with Noct as he plunged the Trident of the Oracle into Lady Lunafreya’s body, killing her nearly instantly. The Chancellor stood nearby, grinning like a madman. Noct seemed surprised at what he had done, particularly when I called out for him. His eyes were burning with a color I’ve not ever seen. A burning orange, an ember color, really, though it faded quickly as he saw us. He tried to approach, but an airship from the Empire fired between us, breaking the altar and sending him, Lunafreya and Leviathan—who fell after he killed her, draped across the altar—into the waves.”

“I thought him killing her had been a mistake,” Aranea commented. Everyone within a couple of miles of the city saw the minute Leviathan died, especially when the storm then increased as a result. “Maybe it wasn’t, though.”

“Maybe the fact that Titan and Ramuh were dead when we got to them means the Empire didn’t kill them, but Noct did…” Gladio added, hugging Iris close when she let out a quiet sob.

Ravus looked at Ignis and nodded in gesture to the group. “…tell them what else we saw.”

Of all the things Ignis expected Ravus to suggest, a defense of what Noctis did wasn’t one. Ignis had been waffling on whether he should consider what he saw was what he believed, but if Ravus felt it important…

“There is more,” he admitted to the group. They looked back to him after watching Iris sadly for the moment. “Noct showed clear signs of torture.”

“ _What_?” Gladio asked, pulling gently from Iris so he could stand up straight.

“The Empire is nothing if not experts on torture,” Ravus said grimly, in the sort of unquestionable tone that spoke of experience. “If it happens that he’s actually been in the Chancellor’s possession…”

“It’d explain why he hasn’t been right any time we’ve seen him,” Gladio finished, his voice edging with anger. “We shouldn’t have let him go alone in the first place.”

Prompto frowned and looked to the floor, while Aranea said, “That’s neither here, nor there. What’s done is done. What we need to do is focus on what to do going forward.”

“And what the hell would that be?” Gladio demanded.

“There’s said to be a royal tomb in Cartanica,” Ravus advised. “And the Frostbearer is in the outskirts of Gralea. We saw my sister’s trident enter Noctis, and you said it yourselves, he’d been going to the Royal Tombs in Lucis, and that Titan and Ramuh had been felled. It’s likely that Ardyn is using him to gather the Royal Arms and to slaughter the gods, so that it will be impossible to weaponize him against the Starscourge, whilst making him formidable against any of us.”

“Would there be reason to follow a path straight to the capital of Niflheim?” Ignis asked Ravus, unreadable for the most part.

“Aye. The Crystal’s there.”

“That settles it then, right?” Prompto asked, looking between everyone in the room. “We’re going to Cartanica then?”

“Please,” Iris pleaded, reaching out to Gladio. “We need to save him.”

Gladio took that hand and squeezed it gently. “We will, Iris.” He looked over to Ignis. “What’s the plan, Iggy?”

“I’ll speak with the First Secretary,” Ignis decided. “And then we’ll start on our way to Cartanica. Hopefully we can intercept them.”

“Let me make a few calls,” Aranea said as she started for the balcony of the room. “I’ll see if we can’t get an airship in here. It’ll be faster.”

“Very good,” Ignis approved. He looked then to Prompto and Iris. “I’d like for the two of you to go and ensure we’ve plenty of curatives and food so we needn’t worry about pit stops.”

“You got it!” Prompto said, determined. He headed over and offered his hand to Iris with a smile that was the best he could muster. “Come on. We gotta stay strong for Noct.”

“Right,” Iris agreed with a deep breath. She took his hand gladly, and then they were quickly off.

As they departed, it left Ignis, Gladiolus and Ravus. Ignis waited to make certain, before looking between the two men. “There’s something else.” The two looked at him, Gladio clearly not wanting more bad news if it could be helped. Ignis reached into his blazer pocket and took hold of something. “Lady Lunafreya must have… dropped it in the fray, and it fell near the archway, forgoing the blast that destroyed the altar.”

He opened his hand, palm up, to show the Ring of the Lucii. Ravus flinched and said, “At least that means _Ardyn_ hasn’t got it.”

“It’s likely he didn’t know it fell upon your sister to pass it to Noct,” Ignis added.

“What do we do with it?” Gladio asked with a frown.

“None of us can wear it,” Ravus advised in a knowing tone.

“We will hold onto it and hope that the Kings of Yore haven’t forsaken Noct through all of this,” Ignis insisted. “Of everything we’ve learned, obtaining the help of the Astrals was simply an attempt to boost Noct’s likelihood of surviving to his Ascension.” He closed his hand and held it out to Gladio. “His Shield should hold it.”

“I’m no Shield,” Gladio replied darkly, pushing that hand away. “I’ve failed him.”

“Gladio—”

“Now is not the time for wavering self-confidence,” Ravus insisted—no, _demanded_ , strong in his tone as he stared Gladiolus down. “Noctis is strong, and there was no way for you to know this would happen.”

“We should’ve insisted on going with him,” Gladio challenged, just as strong.

“What should have happened is irrelevant,” Ravus advised him. “I should have killed him before that altar broke away, but ‘should have’ is unimportant now. What we must do is retrieve him from Ardyn’s grasp, no holds barred.”

“Ardyn is at fault for all of this,” Ignis agreed, even though he flinched at Ravus’s wish to have killed Noctis. “Noct is ordained by the gods and the Crystal, and this Ring and that throne are his birthright as much as being the Chosen King is his destiny. Ardyn may have postponed this, but so long as we focus on the rescue and restoration of Noct and his mind, and we don’t lose track, that’s what matters.”

“Agreed,” Gladio said with a firm nod.

“Keep the Ring’s whereabouts between us,” Ravus demanded.

“…the commodore?” Ignis guessed, based on the previous interaction between Ravus and Aranea.

“You may trust her, but I do not,” Ravus answered.

Ignis glanced at Gladio, and decided that it was ultimately best to keep Ravus on their side as well, and slowly went to pocket the Ring, since Gladio still didn’t seem ready to take possession of it. “Very well. Between us, then.”

“I’ll go get us tickets for the train,” Gladio said. “In case that airship plan falls through.”

“I’ll go on to speak with the First Secretary,” Ignis decided, turning on his heel.

“So will I,” Ravus advised, ready to follow him.

“We’ll meet in, say, an hour out front?” Gladio suggested.

“I’ll send a message to the others,” Ignis agreed.

He sincerely hoped they were all on the same page with this plan. That no one was priming to betray anyone. Namely, Ravus or Aranea. He planned to have a discussion with Gladio about what to do should the situation arise, however. They needed to be ready for absolutely anything.

Especially with Noctis potentially acting as their enemy if they were unable to reason with him.

Ignis knew he wasn’t the only one thinking that, nor the only one dreading it.


	22. Truth Approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intention holds no power now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, my inconsistent chapter naming convention continues.

Noctis opened his eyes slowly when he heard the chime of a phone, or a tablet, or something electronic. Laying by his head was a tablet, left when Exorsa had taken leave on the request of one of the soldiers on board. He wasn’t sure if it was accidental or deliberate, but he did know she was only supposed to use it for researching medical treatments for him. To hear a message ding was surprising, and curiosity got the best of him, so he reached over and scooped it up after stiffly pushing himself up from laying, to sitting, on the floor.

[UNREAD MESSAGES: 1]

[SENDER: Unknown]

He tapped on the alert, the screen unlocking for him immediately as it opened the messaging app on the device.

‘… _you’re really in a pickle, aren’t you?_ ’

Noctis lifted an eyebrow at that.

‘ _Look up, dumb dumb_.’

What the…?

Noctis slowly lifted his eyes from the tablet to in front of him, and felt a sick and yet relieved sensation wash over him.

Sitting just in front of him, with big goofy ears, and a massive, bushy tail, was his carbuncle. It watched him with studious, curious brown eyes, looking serene and kind as always. “…hey.”

The tablet dinged again. ‘ _This is really bad, Noct._ ’

“I know, buddy. And I still don’t… remember everything…”

‘ _You need to remember_.’

Noctis nodded, but otherwise didn’t respond. Normally, that would be grounds for jumping on his head and shoulders in order to get him to stop moping. However, he had a lot of good reasons to mope, and it seemed the carbuncle understood that. It trotted a little closer, and took to curling up next to him.

‘ _I can’t stay for very long, Noct_.’

“Wh…Why? Why not?” There was panicked edge of desperation to his questions. Why wouldn’t the carbuncle be able to stay for… forever?

‘ _You’ve done a lot wrong. I know it’s not really you, but things don’t work on intentions_.’

“Intentions…” Saying that word, it caused a quiet sob to choke out of him, and Noctis curled in on himself, staring at the screen. He killed Luna. He killed her. He didn’t know it was her in that moment, but it didn’t matter, because he still drove her own weapon through her body. That was why things ‘didn’t work on intentions’. “Please… Please, help me,” he begged in a whisper. “Please help me remember. From then to now. I beg of you. I can’t… make it right, and I-I understand you have to go soon, but please… just this one last thing…”

It felt like someone was crushing his heart. Like the one last string connecting him to any shred of innocence he had left was about to cut itself away. There would be nothing else. He murdered the Oracle. Lunafreya. How could his friends even stand to be near him?

And what if…

What if all those awful dreams had merit?

‘ _Okay, Noct._ ’ The carbuncle sat up and craned its head around to look at him. ‘ _But I need you to go to sleep, first._ ’

“But…”

‘ _Soon, there’ll be nothing left of the Noctis we know and love. We need you to fight how long that will be. Before everything is lost. Please, sleep for me, and I’ll show you in your dreams_.’

Nothing… left?

Noctis winced at that message, his heart pounding so hard he bet he could see it hitting the front of his chest.

“Okay…” he whispered.

He went to lay back against whatever was behind him. He couldn’t remember if it was a wall of the airship’s hull, or cargo, or what, but he didn’t care enough to check.

Sleep was rushing in quickly, his body wanting to give out in more ways than one. The only thing that prevented him from slipping away right in that moment was a final ding on the tablet from the carbuncle.

‘ _I know you don’t want this. But he didn’t want what his life became, either. I’m so sorry, Noct. I’m so sorry we couldn’t protect you. You failed, but we failed most of all._ ’

Confusing; a bittersweet sentiment. Did the carbuncle mean Ardyn?

——

All he could remember was the cold.

Water, cold, dark. Like an underwater tomb.

He looked up above him, surrounded by debris from the altar and part of Leviathan’s body sinking into the depths with him. Above the water, light was breaking through the clouds of storms generated by Leviathan’s wrath, and they spirited into the water, lighting the world above his dark surroundings.

High above, white fabric shone light the moon, and he didn’t need to see it clearer to know it was Luna. It was her body. He started to swim, as fast and as hard as his battered body would allow, desperately trying to reach her. Maybe, just maybe, the cold stopped the bleeding. Maybe she could be resuscitated. Maybe she could be revived, brought back, and they could run away together.

He desperately scrambled through the water, trying to reach her and unaware of how his lungs, instinctively holding onto whatever air he had left, wanted to burst.

When he could see her hand, just out in front of him, waving delicately in the water as if she was simply resting, he reached out for her. So many times, he dreamed of being able to roll over to her in bed, to take her hand and watch as she slept, slowly breathing and finally at peace being safe from the Empire. Theirs wasn’t a relationship easily understood, but there was a reason he never fought the Empire’s demands.

His fingertips made contact with her stone cold flesh, and he pushed a little farther so he could hook his fingers with hers.

He never made it.

Some sort of metal claw shot through the water, and landed around his wrist, violently yanking his hand from her and tugging him quickly for the surface. He desperately grabbed for her with his other hand, but the attempt was futile.

Out of the water, and into the air, he was pulled at a speed that threatened to dislocate every bone in his arm.

Up, and up, and up and up, until his body was thrown carelessly through the back of Ardyn Izunia’s airship, and he slammed into the floor.

Exorsa was the first to get to him, and she let out a breathed, “I’m sorry,” before punching him as hard as she could in her diminished state, right in the flank, striking his ribs and pressing through to his lungs.

The action caused his body to spasm, and he began to sputter and cough, wheeze and gasp, as his lungs loosened from their virulent grip on what little air he had left, to prevent him from pulling in water. It only dawned on him, after a burning rush of air caused a turbulent dizziness to wash over him, that she had deliberately struck him to cause his nervous system to relax in the trauma and allow him to breathe again.

Once he was breathing regularly, although not steadily, Exo rolled him onto his back to start quickly treating his wounds.

He stared at the ceiling of the cargo bay, exhausted and useless, unable to do so much as move his fingers. That fact made it all the more horrific when Ardyn stepped into view, overhead and gazing down on him. He wore a sick, delighted smile that Noctis wished he could rip right off his face.

“You did good, my boy,” he said, delighted. “You obtained the Trident of the Oracle! And slayed Leviathan, no less. May her body rest eternally in Altissia’s depths, and may her soul sleep into the forever beside Titan and Ramuh. You truly are a sight to behold, your Majesty.” A deep chuckle escaped him as he said that title.

He flipped a hand over towards Noctis, and the two soldiers from before carted in to scoop him up and off the floor. As they dragged him along behind the jubilant Ardyn (much to Exorsa’s dismay, who ran with them, trying to care for Noctis as best she could), Noctis heaved and coughed. “You made me kill her—you made me kill Luna—”

“I didn’t make you do anything, my boy. That monster welled up in your heart has been there long before me. I’m simply helping you let it out,” Ardyn replied flippantly. “It’s not my fault that, so at odds with your inner beast, you manipulate the world to fit a narrative.”

“Ardyn,” Exo suddenly spoke up, as firm as her weakened voice box would allow.

Stopping, Ardyn slowly turned his head to the glaive and smiled. “Yes, Exorsa?” he asked, that smiling tone dripping with impatience.

“You _need_ to allow me to do my job for him,” she insisted, fringing on hoarsely pleading. “You’re going to take him for Cartanica next, right? He won’t survive the mines there. I’ve been to those mines. They’re fucking hostile. Not even laden with daemons. Just wildlife. Malboros especially. I don’t _care_ what you do to him psychologically, but you can’t release him there like this. He needs rest, food, medicine. Especially because Cartanica isn’t just going to _allow_ an airship belonging to the Empire to land. Not after the fall of Lucis. He’ll have to cut through whatever forces they send to stand in his way.”

Noctis didn’t feel betrayed by the things Exo said. She was trying to survive as much as he, and glaives were always so crafty. She was likely just saying whatever she needed to try to get Ardyn to relent and allow her to do what she was there for: Play medic to him.

Ardyn continued to hold that devilish smile, that felt like at any moment he would lunge out and attack her. Noctis was getting ready to tell Exorsa to stand down, if only to protect her, when Ardyn said, “Fine.”

To say that Noctis and Exo were both shocked was an understatement. It took everything Noctis had not to at least raise his eyebrows.

“Thank you,” Exo said, looking to the soldiers. “Take him to my cot,” she directed, pointing to the side.

“Do as she says,” Ardyn advised with a chuckle. “You have but a few hours, dear. Take good care of him.”

“Shit,” she murmured, as the soldiers turned and dragged Noctis to where she pointed.

The cot in question was one that told its own horrific story. A small pillow was the only bedding she had, with both it and the cot itself drenched in blood where her neck would have rested. Binds for the legs and the arms rested on the floor, by plates that were bolted to the floor.

Noctis hated everything.

Once he was dropped fairly carelessly to the cot, and the soldiers glared at the glaive as they departed, Exo went to sit on her knees beside the cot. “I’m going to do everything I can,” she promised in a whisper. “I can’t counteract what’s been done to your mind, but I can at least help you get through this without pain. You’ll feel a little better with proper hydration. I need you to get sleep in the meantime.”

“Okay,” was all that Noctis could say as he tried to will his body to relax.

That effort came easier when Exo inserted an IV catheter that he barely even felt into his wrist, and injected some sort of medicine from a dwindling vial’s supply into it. Whatever it was, it was strong, and sank him into a deeper sleep than he’d had in a long time…

——

_“Do you remember the first time we were here?”_

_“Yeah. We talked about how we’d run through the fields together one day, when I was all better.”_

_“And the sylleblossom crowns we made?”_

_“I remember being really proud of mine, even though it was awful. You helped me make one for my dad. I tried to help make ones for your mom and brother.”_

_“It was such a pure time.”_

_“You knew it was all going to go wrong, didn’t you?”_

_“No… but my mother, she did. We watched her woeful eyes during your visit, when she thought no one was watching at all. The night before, she tucked us in to bed. She hadn’t done that for us in many years. We were older. It wasn’t necessary any longer.”_

_“My dad did that, the night he learned I was the Chosen King. I didn’t get a lot of time with him after I turned three or four, so I was really happy. I didn’t get why he wasn’t.”_

_“I’m so sorry we failed you.”_

_The apology brought a halt to the conversation. Sitting together on a fallen tree, it gave them a chance to talk and be at peace. The fogs of Tenebrae surrounded them, making it seem like the sylleblossom fields stretched into eternity._

_Noctis lifted his eyes from the serene world around them, to look over at Lunafreya. She clutched her hands together tightly, pressing them to her chest in prayer. Her head was dipped down, with tears slipping free while she fought herself to not sob out._

_“You didn’t fail me, Luna…”_

_“I did. We did.”_

_“’We’? Who? You and my dad?”_

_“And now, because of our negligence, you are doomed to an eternity of punishment.”_

_“This… none of this is anyone’s fault but mine. I should’ve been smarter, I should’ve been—”_

_“We are they who were tasked to clear the path for the Chosen King to achieve his Ascension. This is the final try. We failed.”_

_“Luna…”_

_Luna looked over to the forlorn prince, stricken. “My dear Noctis. I’m so sorry…”_

_Her words carried on as her body began to fade, the flutter of sylleblossom petals slowly lowering to the ground left behind her as she vanished from his view. He dove for her, in the hopes to catch her before he lost her again, the petals scattering around him and turning into streaks of spiraling fog that reached out into the hazy air, soon blending in, forgotten to his sight._

_He couldn’t help but feel it was some sort of metaphor for the fate of the legacy of the Oracle._


	23. Of the Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least something is getting answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: We’re getting close to the end! Unless I find myself deciding on another direction, the number of chapters are absolute. This is more a ‘fill in the blank’ chapter that hearkens back to Chapter 11.
> 
> Also, I know that Lucis technically had four Astrals. Trust me, guys!!!
> 
> Okay, maybe don’t, since my chapter naming conventions are still batshit insane…
> 
> Well, either way, things are getting closer and more solid answers will unfold soon. Or, at least, more solid conclusions.

The sounds of the subway car were loud, like thunder pounding in his skull. From the sound of its wheels on the tracks, to the smaller noises of the armored persons in the car itself. As Noctis woke up and gazed through the car, none of the Imperial soldiers—not magitek troops, but in fact living, breathing men—seemed to pay him no mind. Did they not recognize him?

On the floor, in front of him, Pryna sat, wagging her tail as she watched him. He leaned forward after watching her for a hazy moment, and gently rubbed her cheeks. “Hey, girl,” he said quietly. “Gotta get that last Royal Arm. You know where it’s at?”

A soft, almost acknowledging bark, a tender ‘ruff’, escaped her, and she stood up so she could back up and turn around, and began trotting through the aisle. That wasn’t something Noctis was particularly thrilled about, but he raised to his feet and started after her, trusting her with an implicit trust that, were he in a better state of mind, wouldn’t have had.

None of the soldiers gave a single bit of consideration to the young man darting after a dog, and that young man and his dog neither considered them. Noctis didn’t even consider the fact that he didn’t feel or hear the subway car stop moving as he chased the fluffy messenger right out the doors of the car, and onto a set of stairs that descended down into a large chasm.

It made no sense, but after the journey he’d had so far, nothing made sense any longer. Just roll with the punches, he figured.

In his mind, he recalled his farewell with his friends and to Luna, back in Altissia. “I have a little farther to go. After I get the Glacian’s favor, I’ll call and have you meet me in the first town in olf Niflheim, and we can make for Gralea—and the Crystal—together. Take care of Luna, and I’ll be in touch.”

They weren’t happy with the decision for him to go on his own, but they relented and allowed him to proceed. He didn’t even think to question why Gladio or Ignis would be okay with that and not just tie him up and carry him as they all went with him. Nothing made sense, so why stress about it?

Eventually, those stairs dipped down, under a sign that read _Fodina Caestino_ , and into what looked like some sort of abandoned mining area. It was interesting, but dark, with old machinery everywhere. He knew the story on the internet was that the Empire had exhausted the land, mining for materials that would help them build their armies, but if Luna was to be believed, it was actually the old god Valefor that rushed them from the lands.

Given that he in no way could imagine the state of some of those massive construction tools being turned over, broken, sunken into the mushy earth as being victims of time rather than disaster, he was going to believe Luna. He didn’t know much about the region of Cartanica, beyond the fact that most of what could be seen in the present day was because of the Empire, but he knew that there was no way any region of the world was without at least one Astral. The only reason they had two in Lucis was entirely coincidental, based on the meteor that Titan had to catch.

But that was neither here nor there, as Noctis was there for the Royal Tomb.

Pryna, ever loyal as always, kept him on a narrow path with barks and yips if he strayed even slightly to either side of that which she forged for him. Even in the water, in which she seemed to glide at a higher level than he did, as it came to her ankles, but to his knees, she kept him safe from the wildlife mulling about. Mercifully, there were no daemons, as well.

There were times he would feel a random pain strike over his body, like something hitting or cutting at him, but he saw nothing when he looked, and figured it was just strain. He was likely tightening his muscles when he shouldn’t have been.

Eventually, Pryna stopped in front of a tree, from which the roots and trunk had far surpassed the chasm’s edge in which they stood. Underneath the awning they formed, he could see unnatural vines stemming up from the water, covering the door of the tomb. The vines were clearly the tentacles of marlboros, but every time he looked around, he saw none. He felt nauseated, as though he had been walking through some of their noxious gasses, but that was probably the decaying air around them. Who knew how many things laid dead in the water after so long of nothing.

Turning back to the door, he tossed out a fire spell from his hand. That was something he was always told to avoid doing. The flasks were there to not only share his power as a prince, but to keep him from exhausting himself too early in his life from the feed of the Crystal. His flasks were empty, however, and he hadn’t passed any natural or manmade elemental veins in some time, so naturally-driven it was.

The vines around the door recoiled with a keen squeal, yet again with no marlboros attached, and he was able to key into the ancient tomb with the only resistance being the water that flooded both sides. As with the other tombs, his flashlight radiated off of finely polished stones and metals, and in there, the water as well. It really brightened up the katana-wielding king.

“I wonder how you got here,” he commented as he ran his fingers over the symbolic carving of the weapon. “All the way out here, by yourself. Or maybe there are others, and we just don’t know about them? Maybe Lucis spanned all the way over here once? We’ve really been taking a beating through the years.” He looked over to Pryna. “What do you think?”

The response was an urgent bark and tail wag.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘hurry up, dumb-dumb,’ right?” he asked with a faint smirk.

He stepped back and held his hand out to the sarcophagus, the symbolic stone feature lighting up as it had in many other times. Forming from that light came the crystal-like katana, which swept in and plunged itself into his chest, in that familiar, ice cold pang of all the others.

Unlike all the others, he didn’t get a chance to mull over the new weapon.

Instead, the pain it brought was a snap in his face, back to reality.

Reality, which was him standing in the middle of the pool outside with his Armiger, near as complete as it would get, rotating around him. Two lumbering marlboros roamed the immediate area, with Ardyn standing nearby, playing on his phone. Exorsa stood near Noctis, for once showing something closer to her true power, and her weapons: the shuriken. She was fending off the small babies of those giants, her dancing fight looking graceful and theatrical with the way she kicked water up into flashlight beams, where they lit up light crystals of their own.

“I do suggest you handle this, Noct!” Ardyn called without looking up from whatever he was doing on his phone. “We have a meeting to get to!”

Noctis wanted to blast him with his Armiger, but he felt so dizzy. He had to have been hit by one of their poisons. If he wasn’t careful, and didn’t make every strike count, he could end up in trouble.

Since at least Ardyn wanted to keep him alive for the time being, Noctis launched his Armiger out for the large, viney behemoths. Behind those blasts, he hit them with fire, giving everything he had without ever getting too close to them. The fire wasn’t as effective as it was normally, thanks to the flooded Fodina Caestino, but he could see the marlboros groan and lurch, shriek and stumble as they tried to get in close to him, and that was good enough for him.

That was, until he felt one of those tentacles wrap around his feet. Before he could declare one of his Arms as a weapon of choice to get free, the vine-like appendage was yanked, and ripped his feet right out from under him. He was plunged straight back, into the dirty, murky water, his vision clouding over with sediment.

When he sprang back up to his feet, the world around him narrowed, and then brightened, and the lost air from his lungs returned. The strain of the fight evaporated, and the water clinging to his skin and his close disappeared.

Standing atop one of many dams in Cartanica, he was positioned just behind Ardyn.

Ardyn stood, smiling to a man in a suit, who was flanked by uniformed personnel. Their badges read various things, but it boiled down to that they were members of the police and guard of Cartanica.

“We disavowed the Empire after they attacked Leviathan,” the man in the suit said. “We might be of Niflheim, but we are _not_ part of the Empire.”

“Now, I understand your hesitation—” Ardyn started, only to be promptly cut off.

“And you want us to believe that boy—” The man in the suit pointed to Noctis. “—is here of his own volition, helping _you_ , Chancellor?”

“Of course he is.” Nothing about Ardyn’s tone sounded upset; rather, he sounded amused.

“Please. Look at him. He looks _sick_. I have no idea what you’ve done to him, but we can see he’s endured something _awful_.”

They could see it. They were protesting. They saw it when not even his friends did. How?

“Well, why don’t we ask _him_?” Ardyn suggested. He turned to smile to Noctis. “Oh, Noct~? Are you here because you want to be, or have I forced your presence?”

Noctis wanted to immediately implore for help, to protest and say he was being _tortured daily_.

“I want to be here,” his mouth betrayed.

So caught in his own mind, screaming for help, shouting for the people of Cartanica to flee and take him with, he didn’t realize that in reality, he stood as still as a statue, the Katana of the Warrior clutched in his right hand, with the tip narrowly missing the ground.

“Well then, that’s that.” Ardyn turned back to the man in the suit, who looked beyond concerned for the young king. “And since you’ve no interest in working with me, I guess we’ll just have to clean house.” He turned slowly to his young companion, smiling broadly, widely, devilishly. “Won’t we, Noct?”

In that moment, Noctis swore he separated from his own body, left in place as his physical self sprang forward, wielding that katana in both hands. He stood there, watching in horror as his body began to tear through those innocent people as though they were made of nothing but paper. The stink of blood hit his nose, and he wanted to gag, but he couldn’t. Blood mixed with flesh and organ, muscle and tendon, with other bodily fluids as shell that was his body swept through those innocent people with blade in hand, and quickly tossed each victim—or what remained of each victim—into a heap together.

But that bloodshed wasn’t enough. That massacre was meant to be a genocide, he soon learned, as his body took the order to ‘go forth and bring what dies back to the levee’.

The farther his body got, the harder it was to see. Noctis couldn’t move to follow, or to run away, so he was overpowered by the darkness soon enough, forced to await until his body returned.

In the darkness, he dreamed of his friends.

Of Luna.

Of a life not like the one he had there. One where he made it to Altissia and there was no need for Royal Arms or Astrals. One where marrying Luna was enough to satisfy the Ceasefire, and peace reigned.

Peace… not the massacre that laid before him as the world returned and he was able to move again.

In his hand, he held some sort of… badge? On one level, he knew what he was looking at, but that level was slowly sinking into a level of utter confusion and horror. An amnesia brought on by torture, starvation, sleep deprivation.

Soon, he couldn’t remember where he was, or how he got there. All he knew was that there were men, women, children torn asunder all around him, and an employee badge of some sort in his hand.

[][][]

_YEVIN, PAUL Y._

_Employee ID: 15-343-A_

_Horizon Agricultural Consultants_

_Cartanica Division_

[][][]

“Cartanica?”


	24. Ice and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter will be jumping narrative settings. If you’ve kept up this long, you SHOULD be able to follow it.
> 
> Who am I kidding? THIS GON’ BE A MESS, SON.

“Remember when we used to make flower crowns?”

“’twas the happiest week of my life, your visit.”

Noctis smiled over to Luna, even though he did so with the weight of darkness from an oncoming scourge behind him. Tenebrae had fallen, but the Oracle was with him. _Luna_ was with him. Their homes could burn together. Tragic and poetic, just like them.

She looked over his head, from the small table set out by the Imperial traitors, to look at the burning mountaintops around them sadly. “I wonder how many people managed to escape the attacks,” she said softly, her tone filled with worry.

“I don’t know,” Noctis admitted, looking off in the same direction. “They’ll be welcome to Lucis, though, if they can make it.”

Luna smiled at that, resting her chin in her hand. “Thank you. I hope they do make it. Would I help them, if not for our mission.”

“Yeah, same.” Noctis looked back to Luna and offered her a small smile as well. “I’m glad you’re with me, Luna. The guys and I couldn’t do this without you.”

“We’re going to fail.”

The simple, whimsical way she said that caught Noctis off-guard. He frowned, baffled, as he watched her. “…what?”

“Sweet Noctis…” she breathed. She reached out her hands then, to cover one of his resting on the table. “Please. If we have any hope for the future, you must cast yourself onto the sword. End it, so that a new line may be chosen in your stead before it’s too late. Allow him to fester on this mortal coil, and come home.”

Noctis frowned even more, pulling his hand away with a look of utter betrayal. “I don’t understand.”

“You do,” she whispered, eyes turning glassy with tears. “Please, Noctis. The journey is over. You know this isn’t real.”

Noctis was about to argue, but was cut off by the sound of Prompto calling over with, “Noct! Aranea’s got us guys to work the train! It’s time to go!”

He looked over to the blond, who waved his hand and jumped in the glow of torches around the area, and then looked back to Lunafreya. Or tried. Darkness was left in her space, with the outlines of survivors being herded onto airships in view instead.

He was going crazy.

“Are you coming?!” Prompto called.

“…yeah. Coming.”

It took a little time, but eventually Noctis arrived at the train. It had been modified after their fight on the way there from Cartanica, the entire chain shuffled back and forth so damaged cars could be removed, and the ones still whole reconnected. While Ignis and Aranea spoke with the two men who would be driving—Biggs and Wedge, he overheard—Gladio and Iris were talking daggers.

“Don’t try anything fancy like you see with Noct or Iggy,” he said. “That’ll come in time as you find the right pair for you. These are daggers Noct uses, so you probably won’t find them as being very balanced.” He held out a pair of daggers to her, which she took and looked over. He noticed Noctis and nodded to him. “I was hoping Aranea’s people would’ve had something she could use, but nothing light enough.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Noctis said with a shrug, trying to act as if he hadn’t just been hallucinating Luna telling him to kill himself. “She not good for guns.”

“She needs that last Amicitia growth spurt before she’s allowed that,” Gladio replied, grinning at Iris.

“Gladdy!” she scolded, pushing at him with her foot.

“Not my fault you’re a dwarf,” he laughed as he stumbled back.

“It’s ‘little people’ to you, mister!”

It was good that Gladio had his sister. Noctis imagined he’d be hell on wheels otherwise. Ignis had, meanwhile, seemed to appreciate the more elevated conversations he could have with Aranea. While any of the guys could hold up with him, Noctis always got the sense that he had topics he wanted to discuss, but refrained. Aranea seemed more welcoming.

A pat on his back had Noctis turning, coming to face Prompto. “Hey,” he greeted his best friend.

“Hey, Noct.” Unlike the others, Prompto was watching him with real worry on his face. “How… How’re you doing? You know, you could stay here a while longer if you needed to,” he suggested. Despite being eager to beckon for Noctis, he apparently hadn’t meant to rush him.

“Thanks, but it’s okay.” He pointed out, over Prompto’s shoulder, to a particularly heavy fire that pierced through the volatile darkness. “That’s… her home. Nothing left but a frame and flames. I got nothing here to see.”

“…right.” He looked back to Noctis. “What… do you think came of her brother?”

“I don’t know. He might be in Gralea when we get there. Iggy said he flounced pretty quick after he found Luna dead at the altar.” That sounded right. He was upset… over…

…the death of Luna.

He turned very suddenly, and went to get aboard the train, saying, “I’ll be waiting,” to everyone as he went.

“Well, I guess we know what that means,” Aranea said. She looked to Biggs and Wedge. “Let’s get moving once you’re sure everything’s ready to go.”

———

Noctis had taken to laying on one of the many empty seats of the train, finding a car towards the back that no one else seemed interested in. It allowed him to stare up and out through the window, even though there wasn’t much to see. Despite it being a little after noon, the sky was as dark as twilight, but without the moon and without the stars. It was disturbing. Like they were traveling into a black hole, or a void of nothing.

“Noct!!” The sound of Iris shouting at him startled him, right out of the fact that he was starting to doze off for what felt like the first time in forever.

“What is it, Iris?” he called back, tone flat. He didn’t even bother to sit up to look at her.

“Noct, you need to _wake up right now_!”

That had him sailing upright. After hearing that so often, he was getting tired of it and wanted to know why she said it.

However, in that instant, the illusion around him shattered, and he slammed down snowy train tracks, no train around him to speak of. Although he was wrapped in heavy clothes to protect him from the freezing snows and winds around him, it did little to shelter him entirely.

Off to one side, Exo stood, clutching large shurikens with shaking hands, her eyes fixated on something could and something bright behind him.

To the other side, Ardyn stood, grinning broadly from under the brim of his hat. “’lo, the Glacian and her Lover! United together to test your mettle, boy!”

Noctis slowly pushed to his feet, having to use the trident he clutched in his hand to support himself. He felt so tired, so weak, foggy-minded. Hungry.

When he turned, he could finally see exactly what Ardyn was referring to:

Standing in the middle of Shiva, who was shattered into her many pieces that fluttered about like fairies, was none other than Ifrit. It was a haunting display between deadly heat and deadly cold, as the two blocked the way to Gralea. Based on the way Ifrit’s side was bleeding molten liquid from his chest, it would seem Noctis had attacked him and managed to sink his weapon deep into his torso and rip it through him, before being blown away to the spot he was then.

He wasn’t certain he could fight them. To do so would be suicide, and was that really the option for the best solution? Or was his dream just a figment of his imagination, trying to give him an easy way out?

In his indecision, he didn’t notice Ardyn moving quickly up on him, until Ardyn had a hold of his lower jaw and was forcing him backwards in a painful arch, so their eyes could meet. The action seemed to perturb the deities, who made an advance towards them.

“You are the Last King,” Ardyn growled, his voice low, guttural, hypnotic. “Destroy them.”

Noctis felt his body slack, and his eyes rolled back in his skull, the world growing dark most briefly.

-

“Dude, if you’re gonna keep falling asleep, let me play, yeah?” Prompto insisted, holding out his hand for the controller.

Noctis looked down at his video game controller, and then passed it over to Prompto as he paused the game, who sat next to him on the couch of his apartment. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize, but this is one of the big fights! We’re almost to the end!”

“Right.”

Noctis watched as Prompto checked through the inventory menu of the character on the screen. As he navigated through switching fighting styles and weapons, Prompto glanced briefly at Noctis. “Crystal really wiping you out today?”

“Ignis and Gladio must be training pretty hard today,” he replied with a nod. “Cor said they go first, and then you and me, and then we’ll train with Gladio and Ignis leading the way.”

“Cool. But you gonna be okay?”

“Oh yeah. My old man says it gets easier as you get older. I mean, before it gets harder again.”

“…the cane, right.”

“Yeah.”

Prompto left it there, finishing his changes and unpausing the game. On the screen, the rather lacking-in-personality playable character stood before two giants—one of ice, and one of fire. In one hand, the character wielded a trident, and in the other, a gun. Prompto had sharp eyes, and was always better with things that required aiming.

He watched as he made the character flip around, using the trident as a vaulting pole, and the gun to shoot out various, tactical parts of the giants. Around, over and under, the intense battle on the screen seemed to last forever. Sprays of lava would shoot from the fire giant’s wounds, while icy mist flowed from the ice giant’s wounds. It was mesmerizing.

Though, not so much that when a new presence appeared in the room, that Noctis didn’t pick up on it. A soft chill ran down the back of his neck, and he looked to his other side slowly. There, right next to him, facing him and smiling sorrowfully, stood Luna’s Messenger, Gentiana. He’d known her for many years, her often coming to retrieve Pryna when Luna sent her and she stayed too long.

She reached down, tenderly resting her hand to his cheek. “It’s alright, sweet prince,” she murmured, making it clear that Prompto had no idea she was there. “We see now that your actions are not that of your own will.”

“What?” Noctis breathed, something between her touch and her words haunting him to his core.

“We’re sorry we failed you,” she continued. Her thumb delicately traced over his cheek. “Someday, we’ll get this right.”

-

An explosion of finality burst through his ears, and the young king-to-never-be clasped his hands over them desperately as his weapons faded from view. He could just barely see Exorsa doing the same as she tried to scramble for him to check him over.

Laying before them, amid a settling snowstorm, were the bodies of Shiva and Ifrit, steaming as their heat and their freeze rested against one another. It left Noctis horrorstruck. Had _he_ done that? What about the other Astrals? Had he done that to them, as well?!

“I killed them,” he breathed, eyes wide and vision shaking.

“A great mercy, I’d say,” Ardyn said, grinning as he came over as well. He unceremoniously slapped Exo away and grasped Noctis by his hair to start dragging him back for their awaiting airship, the emergency landing lights still on and bright in the snowy darkness. “No god worth their salt wants to stand in the ruin of the world they were set to protect.”

Noctis didn’t even have the strength to fight him. It was hard enough to stay standing so he wouldn’t get his hair ripped out of his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, _Noct_.” Ardyn dragged him up straight, stopping on the ramp into the ship, so they could meet eye-to-eye. “Don’t you get it, lad? You’re not here to understand anything. You’re simply here to obey. You’re here to help bring the end to this pathetic world, at my feet, as you belong.”


	25. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crystal neareth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: POV is going to be waffling a lot in this. Very inconsistent. But then again, this whole story’s a shitstorm of nonsense, so I guess it makes sense!
> 
> Unlike literally everything else about this!
> 
> This is not a happy chapter, but (unless I insert one more) this is the second to last chapter. The next one will take... a long time, because I want to make it longer and worthy of being the last chapter, especially since this one didn't turn out exactly how I was hoping.

It was so cold.

He was so alone.

Yes, Noctis was there at Zegnatus Keep with others, technically, but Exorsa was sent in another direction, while Ardyn went opposite, and they both went through doors and paths that flanked his. She was to look for supplies, and clear the route that could end up posing a danger to Noctis; he was to clear the other side for dangers to Noctis, and look for any information that would assist them.

Noctis’s mission was to go forth and find the Crystal. “The Emperor was the one to decide to bring it here. Not I, because why would I rob you of the very thing you need?”

Exo had no power. Her loyalty was clear, but she had no power to exercise it.

Ardyn had all the power. His position over Noctis was clear, and he had every intention to use it at every twist and turn.

That didn’t much matter in the moment though. None of it did. He wished he could leave, and run for his friends, wherever they were. Wherever they were, and wherever he would be safe.

The Keep seemed to go on forever, its paths and twists and turns confusing but almost deliberate in the way some doors were closed, and others were open. It afforded him enough safe rooms to take breaks within, in between fighting daemons as he marched through halls, over rooftops, and up and down stairs.

With the endless night outside, and him not having his phone on him any longer, Noctis had no idea what time it was. It was as though the Niffs didn’t believe in clocks, because for all the technology he passed by, there were none to be found.

Just as he finished slicing his way through a series of alvs, his blade cutting through them with an ease he hadn’t expected, just on account of how weak he’d grown, he saw something move up ahead of him. He looked over to actually comprehend the movement’s cause, and went wide-eyed at the sight he beheld.

“…Prompto?” he breathed. He started to walk for him, not even aware of the more pronounced limp running through his left leg, to catch up with him.

Nor was he aware of the particularly dark eyes that his best friend held. They weren’t black, but a harsh and deep gray, from iris to sclera, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. All Noctis saw, however, was his best friend.

“Prompto!” he said— _called_ as he darted for him, faster and faster.

Instead of receiving a response, Prompto slowly turned away from him, and then sprinted out of sight.

“ _Prompto!_ ” Noctis called again, his voice begging as he tried to run after him.

On a good day, Prompto was faster than he was. The guy was going on ten years straight of running every day, twice a day, for miles at a time. As much as he liked to complain about long distances to their rides back in Insomnia, or whined about having to do things in gym when theyw ere still in school, the guy was _fast_. And that made it doubly hard on Noctis when he finally felt a bit of the pain that was actually wracking his body right then. Ultimately, that meant he was once again stuck with following the halls, and what doors opened versus those that didn’t.

He merged then into a large control room of some sort, after passing through endless hallways and some offices and labs. He fought some daemons along the way, but that place… that place looked safe. Well, once he canvassed the entirety of the corridors stemming off of it, front and sides both.

Left and right were conference rooms, with the Empire’s flag hanging on their walls, and clear evidence of a fast retreat like the rest of the building present. The lights were on, and he didn’t see any blood or clawmarks anywhere, so he was confident both rooms were fine.

The last corridor was an exit, and Noctis started in that direction, though he was once again startled out of a determined haze at the sight of Gladio and Ignis trailing down that hallway, though…

Was… Ignis walking with a cane?

That was what it looked like. Like Gladio was supporting Ignis’s left arm with his hand, while the steward’s right hand clutched a cane that navigated the floor not for support, but to search.

Afraid they would begin to run like Prompto had (the logic of why they were there, but Prompto wasn’t, lost on the prince), Noctis ran for them in silent desperation. They didn’t take notice to him, rounding the first corner they reached, going right. Noctis shot over, as fast as his battered body would allow, and turned right.

To his dismay, they had vanished into thin air.

Was he going crazy?

He turned, the hall in the other direction looking nearly identical. He ignored it in favor of the direction in which the specters of his friends turned. Maybe it really wasn’t them, but maybe there were Messengers who decided he was worth aiding. Perhaps, if he reached the Crystal before Ardyn could catch him up, he could receiving power _and_ healing and fight Ardyn right then and there. There were stories of Messengers taking to form of familiar faces in order to help their targets. He’d never heard of them changing key things like physical capabilities, but maybe one of the Messengers themselves had a disability they couldn’t hide, even when wearing an able-bodied mortal’s face.

So, down the hall he pressed on, from that point on the trip being rather lonely. He would occasionally see Prompto flutter farther down from him, but after a couple more quick attempts to catch up, he gave up and repeated his theory.

He hoped they were Messengers. God, he hoped they were.

Eventually—he wasn’t sure how long, the world rocking around him as his body grew direly weak—he found himself walking out into some sort of hangar, devoid of any machinery, but occupied by one thing:

Ravus Nox Fleuret.

He stood straight and proper as he watched Noctis. Unlike Prompto, Gladio and Ignis, nothing was odd about him, and he was directly fixed on Noctis as the prince approached.

“Ravus…” Noctis said slowly, frowning. “I-I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

Ravus said nothing right away, instead lifting a hand up for his own ear slowly. Noctis watched in confusion as he pressed his fingers against his ear, and said, “I’ve got him here with me. … No. He seems rational.” He then lowered his hand, still never once looking away from Noctis. “Do you work for Ardyn freely?”

“…what? No!” Noctis stumbled a little more towards Ravus, but shambled to a stop when Ravus stepped back from him, worry striking over his face. Why was he backing away?

“Then it will make what we have to do a bit easier, although more tragic.”

“What?”

A large number of rushing footsteps broke the silent air around them. From several smaller entries, others appeared. Prompto, Aranea and Ignis to one side, and Gladiolus and Iris to the other. Unlike before, Prompto looked normal, his eyes their normal striking blue, and Ignis was without a cane in his hand.

“Noct!” Prompto called to him, his face fearful and worried. All of them had similar expressions, to varying degrees.

“Noct, I’m so sorry,” Ignis said somberly, taking the lead in slowly, carefully approaching him. “I am _so terribly sorry_. We should have regarded the signs that something was wrong.”

“Iggy—”

A chime came on overhead, giving all pause there. Some looked upwards, including Noctis. Aranea, Ravus and Gladio kept their eyes fixed on him, however.

“Happy alliances and happy reunions!” Ardyn’s voice chirped through the intercom system. Just the sound of his voice had Noctis cringing and pulling into himself, much to the clear dismay of those around him. “But I’m afraid we haven’t the time to stand around all day and chat. Noct has a destiny to fulfill!”

“Not happening,” Gladio shouted up at the ceiling. “At least, not with you!”

A dark, haunting chuckle came over the speakers, making Noctis grow even smaller, because he’d heard that one too many times since Ardyn took him.

“I’m afraid you have no choice. Noct, do get to work. By the way: The last Nox Fleuret has your father’s sword. The _steward_ has your ring.”

Something in the atmosphere shifted then, and it put the teams ambushing him on high alert, especially when he let out a scream, which came out muted to his ears, and grasped at his head.

The world around him shifted, and when he stood up straight, he found himself swarmed with daemons. Six, to be precise. Monstrous ones he couldn’t recognize in species, but they were bipedal. Humanoid. They were grotesque things, oily with the scourge, and closing in on him.

He had no idea that, in reality, he was surrounded by his friends and allies. He had no idea he was just standing there, a blank expression on his face, and his steel blue eyes contorted into a burning fire-orange, as they had been on the altar of Altissia.

Breaking out his Armiger, twelve weapons emerged, which he launched out around him like torpedoes at all six of the daemons. Two of them were struck, while two dodged, and two blocked the blows.

He went for the two that were hit, as they seemed to be the weakest in defense. As he charged one, one of the blocking daemons rushed between them, as though shielding the other. Noctis responded by throwing out an electrical spell that slammed into the mucky shield that daemon wielded, and the current sent it into a spasming mess on its knees. Noctis used his trident then, to vault over that daemon, and slam into the other as it tried to get up and get away. As he descended upon it, he switched from trident to daggers, and slammed them both unceremoniously into the daemon’s chest and neck.

Seconds later, he was slammed to the side by one of the larger daemons, which then hunched over the dead almost protectively. Noctis didn’t think to question it. Instead, he focused on rolling through his shoulders, preventing himself from splaying across the floor, and instead landing in a crouch, from which he sprang with another wave out from his Armiger. The weapons sprayed out from him like arrows launched from an army. While most managed to escape, his trident collided into one of the largest in the group, slamming into its chest and impaling it not unlike he impaled the monster he only sometimes remembered was actually Luna.

He warped next as he ripped his engine blade out of thin air, right into one of the more slender of the daemons remaining, as it charged him with a long pole weapon, or longsword, sweeping with inky darkness.

Their blades clashed together, the sound muted behind his heartbeat drumming in his ears. The daemon was fast, skilled, but not skilled enough to stop him when he swung around, knocking the weapon to the side and moving faster than it could be brought in, and ramming his blade down, in through the shoulder. As the daemon fell, he used that difference of height to thrust the entire blade deep into its chest cavity there, and—

“Stop!” a voice, familiar and ringing as foreign begged.

He slowly turned, holding his sword within that daemon’s body, and holding it up in that fashion, and looked on to the haunted Ignis Scientia with unrecognizing eyes.

He didn’t see the daemons as Gladio, hunched over Iris with holes in her stomach and neck. He didn’t see Ravus, laying on the floor with his sister’s trident shoved through his chest.

He didn’t see that he was the only thing holding Aranea, whose blood began to pour from her mouth and nose from ruptured lungs and stomach, his blade going through her right shoulder, and partially protruding through her skin, just above her left thigh.

“You want your father’s sword and the Ring, do you not?” Ignis asked, his voice level and yet his eyes wide.

“Iggy—” Prompto started.

“We’ll not fight well now, not with this loss,” Ignis hissed at him in return. He looked back to Noctis. “I haven’t the ring on me, despite what that man tells you. Your sword lays over there.” He pointed to Ravus. “Declare it, but we’ve not the ring.”

Noctis’s response was to leave his sword inside Aranea, and to release her so her body would fall to the floor, in favor of launching out a powerful lightning attack that knocked both Ignis and Prompto to the floor. They spasmed and shook, and Noctis went over to pad over Ignis’s clothing. If the electricity was hurting him, he didn’t show it.

“ _Noctis_!” Gladio snapped as he stood, his hands and arms covered in Iris’s blood.

When Noctis stood back up, his calling of Ignis’s bluff successful when he found the ring in his back pocket, he stared at Gladio with hollow eyes. The look was so monstrous and foreign, it took the heartbroken big brother and Shield aback.

“You’re not him,” he said darkly, pained. “You wear his face, but he’s dead. Isn’t he?”

There was no spoken response. Noctis simply turned, waving a hand to recall all his weapons back to floating around him, and he started away in the direction he needed to go to catch up with Ardyn.

There was no use in expending energy on daemons that weren’t an immediate danger, or protecting something he needed immediate access to. Daemons weren’t a problem unless it was one of those two things.

Disgusting, oily, faceless monsters.

———

“Welcome!”

When the haze melted away, Noctis found himself standing before the Crystal of his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s mother, and so on. Chained in a big, orblike space, with its light whirling around it as though it was ready to reach out at any moment.

Ardyn stood next to him. Exo was notably absent.

“Did you know the Crystal was once blue?” Ardyn asked. “And held within a grand temple that laid behind its king’s throne, not atop it for all to see?”

“I didn’t,” the younger man replied, his voice inexplicably hoarse, as if he had been screaming for hours. He had some false memory of sitting in a room in the Keep, screaming in agony and punching the floor. It wasn’t real though. Like a dream.

His hands hurt.

“It was only after a man chosen originally to be its king arrived, and touched it to implore for its power as every king would do after he, that its body shelled over into this brilliant red, pink, whatever you’d like to call it. The blue light of your warp, and its light now, are the true colors of this Crystal.”

“You know a lot about this thing,” Noctis mumbled quietly.

“Well, of _course_ I do,” Ardyn chuckled. He looked from the Crystal to Noctis, smiling brightly, devilishly. “After all, it was my touch that tainted it.”

“…what?” Noctis breathed, looking up at Ardyn in doubt, horror, suspicion.

“Ah, I do believe we should have a proper introduction. It has been a while, and leading this lie has been… tiring.”

“Lie—”

Ardyn swept in and grasped Noctis’s lower jaw in his vice-like grip. Every time he did it, Noctis swore the bones were going to break, and his teeth were going to pop free. “My name is Ardyn Lucis Caelum,” he said quietly, chuckling, moving in so close to Noctis’s face that he could feel his breath on his lips.

“What?” Noctis asked, horrified.

“I was to be the Chosen King, the King of Light, the King of Kings, back when there were more kings than just two in this world,” Ardyn said, delighted at the way Noctis was acting. “Why it rejected my touch doesn’t matter any longer, nor does what happened to me after matter. My brother made sure of that. Erasing my face from everything but a simple painting in a museum filled with them, making it no more or no less remarkable than the next. Erasing my name from _everything_ in existence. What does matter, O King of Kings, is that this day depended on you being pure. Innocent in ways I was not when my day came.

“But I fixed you of _that_. To approach the Crystal now will kill it. You’re welcome to try.” He stepped away from Noctis and gestured. “But to do so will mean destroying everything magical about you, and thus those who depend on your magic to give them magic. As you stand now, you could still reign as king. Your mind, shattered as it is, still has parts of it that are sweet and pure, though through the Crystal’s existence, so to do I have my powers still.”

As he spoke that last sentence, Ardyn raised his hands and his body erupted in a pink-magenta light, and from that light came an Armiger impossibly larger than Noctis’s. His cheshire smile only got bigger.

“If you leave the Crystal be, another King will come to pass, and perhaps he or she will have a better time of fulfilling the prophecy… provided there’s anyone left to fulfill it for. If you touch it, you end the light within and will ensure you will die in your march to the throne. You’ll doom the world, but no one will be able to hurt again once humanity vanishes from this mortal realm… and, with the death of humanity, eventually the daemons will vanish, and so will the darkness.

“So which will it be? Stand as King Most Powerful, and reign in endless darkness, in the hopes of the light coming again? Or doom humanity to a few more years of life, but purify the world in another way ultimately?”

Noctis frowned and looked at the Crystal. He was too tired to fight and to argue. Both options sounded viable, and he couldn’t think of something else that was better. He’d never stand a chance. Too many people spoke of his corruption. Even Luna said he was lost forever…

What would he do?


End file.
